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● Plus my novels, stories, verse, vulgar interests, apologies, and singing.
● Most posts are 300 words. I respond to all comments/re-comments.
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Tuesday 16 February 2021

Withered

Flower-shop, East Tremont, The Bronx. Rusting vases stacked outside; phone echoes in the near-empty display room.

Fabienne: Yeh….  No good news, Mr Fahid. I’ll be out by five as agreed….  You’ve done your best. ‘preciate that… Yeh, yeh. Floors swept… Least I could do… Hard sell, sure. She laughs. Hard place to sell flowers.

A small spirit stove heats water. She spoons Maxwell House into a cup. Cars roar past. Time shuffles. Doorbell tinkles.

F: Hey, Gramma Damrosch. Coffee? Black’s all I’ve got.

GD: I got milk.

F: Guess you know the bad times. Take my chair. I’ll use these crates.

GD: You cheerful. What’ll you do?

F: Leave this stinking city if I had the dough. Reminds me of my ex. Jersey, by the ocean would be good. But I’m dreaming. A diner’s more likely; the early shift.

GD: I’d buy flowers…

F: No, no. Your husband… Pick a bunch, my gift. You bought when you could.

GM: Roses, once. Pauses. Just once.

Late afternoon, getting dark. Doorbell.

F: Hey, you’re young to be buying flowers.

Grins. Black, too.

F: I didn’t say that. Hey, not much to see. Last day, I’m closing.

He: Shit.

F (Intrigued): Why should it matter?

He: Mom’s birthday but I was short. Got myself a deuce now, and an idea. Flowers. Forget cooking and cleaning. But you’re bust. No other flower shops on Tremont.

F: Five bucks. Make up your own bunch.

He: Better you do it. Telling me what I’ve got

He leaves, swaggering with this new thing, a bunch of flowers.

Potted fuchsias, dahlias shrivelling, mimosa clusters; into the garbage. For herself a lily – almost pristine. Recalling her efficiency and its unmade bed she hands the lily to a bemused cop outside the subway.

9 comments:

  1. Makes me want to know the backstory, too.

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  2. Crow: There is, alas, no back-story. The short story (epecially when limited to 300 words) must, in John Donne's words, be "entire unto itself". That isn't the same as gently encouraging the reader to supply one him/herself. If there is no such inclination in the reader the story has failed.

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    Replies
    1. Your vignettes are complete as written, and I like that the story is told primarily through dialogue with just enough scene-setting and description to round it out.

      This one just made me want to know a bit more.

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    2. Crow: So would I - want to know more, that is. Straight off why F has the first name she has. There's a French village bell ringing sonorously but quietly there.

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  3. Totally love the 'bemused cop' with a pristine lily.

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    Replies
    1. Sandi: On the grounds that his immediate reaction would not be to draw his gun.

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  4. This very short story seems complete unto itself. Oddly enough. For some reason I want to know the month and year.

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    Replies
    1. Colette: Perhaps because you know flowers. Would they all be available on sale at the same time?

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