Danielle arrived early every morning. She swept the floors and wiped down the plastic tablecloths. She set up each table to be ready for the morning rush. Creamer, sugar, and artificial sweeteners for coffee. Salt and pepper for eggs. Syrup for pancakes. Butter and jam for toast.
A smile graced Danielle’s face as she looked around, knowing that everything was ready for the first customer of the day.
Sitting down at one of the tables, she sighed. Due to the pandemic, seven months had passed since the last customer had entered the café. But Danielle was a creature of habit.
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
“Pink?” Adam said. “You didn’t say in the ad that it was pink. You’d think you would have noted that in the ad.”
“My wife’s favorite colors was pink, young man,” the seller said. “I bought this boat for her for our thirtieth anniversary.”
“I hate pink,” Adam said. “If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have ridden my bike all the way here to see it.”
“So paint the damn thing if you don’t like the color,” the seller said.
“I don’t think so,” Adam said. “You should have said in the ad that the boat was pink.”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: C.E. Ayr.
“I give up. I’m going to shutter this place and find another site to start over,” Dave said.
“But honey, a restaurant by the sea was your dream,” Maryanne said. “I’m sure, if you’ll just be patient, we can make a go of it.”
“Dammit,” Dave said, “every time another Nor’Easter hits this bay, it dumps tons of seaweed on our outdoor dining area. This is the fifth time this season and I’ve had it. That’s it.”
“But where will we go?” Maryanne asked.
“Inland, where the sea can’t reach the restaurant,” Dave said. “Unless, you know, climate change.”
Written for Rachel Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo credit: Sandra Cook
“Mother, why do we have all of these garlic strings hanging in various places all around our home,” Gloria asked.
“They protect our home,” Beatrice answered.
“Protect it from what?” Gloria asked.
“From evil beings,” Beatrice answered. “The church believes that garlic is apotropaic and is able, therefore, to ward off evil spirits.”
“What kinds of evil spirits?” Gloria asked.
“Vampires and werewolves,” Beatrice said.
“Does garlic really repel vampires and werewolves?” Gloria asked.
“Have you seen any in our home?” Beatrice asked.
“No.” Gloria said.
“Well, there you go,” Beatrice smiled. “The church is always right.”
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Dale Rogerson.
“Mommy look,” Jess said, pointing to a baby’s highchair on the sidewalk surrounded by trash. “Can we take it home for my baby doll?”
“No, sweetheart,” Jess’ mother said. “It has a bad karma.”
“What is karma, Momma?” Jess asked.
“It’s hard to explain, honey,” her mother said, “but seeing such a nice highchair on the sidewalk surrounded by junk gives me the willies.”
“What are the willies, Momma?” Jess asked.
“Just bad feelings, like something’s not quite right.”
“So what is wrong with that highchair?” Jess asked.
“Someone tossed it out,” her mother answered. “And that haunts me.”
Written for today’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Roger Bultot.