| General Fiction posted February 11, 2021 | Chapters: |
2 4 -5- 6... 
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Short flash fiction
A chapter in the book Short Stories
A Child Picks up the Phone...
by GregoryCody
I looked down at the rotary phone sitting in my lap - the crease in the khaki slacks had flattened. I had been too lazy to iron, too apathetic to notice...until now.
Sure I could take them to a dry cleaners. Had I not been forced to boycott the local one.
The owner was abnormally friendly. It was foreign to me. He also spoke too much and far too close - the scent of coffee did little to mask the horror behind his breath. It was an angry aroma. You shouldn't be able to smell a conversation, I remember justifying to myself. Eventually I just couldn't do it anymore.
The iron still sits in its packaging on my kitchen counter. I just realized I have no idea how to iron, I chuckled.
This was a "defense mechanism" of mine, I am told. Apparently I use humor to mask uncomfortable situations. There was not a mask large enough for this phone call.
My nervous fingers began to fiddle with the coils of the loose cord, weaving themselves into the slack rope - its tautness worn away years ago. Rather than retract, it fell into piles on either side of me like wet noodles.
The faded teal phone was a plastic relic, tacky - but I understood it's appeal. I liked to imagine it was spotted atop a dusty shelf in some quaint New England antique shop.
In actuality, I'm sure it was acquired online and at a discount, no less. Antique shops were the true relics, I acknowledged to myself with a smirk.
I became aware of the silence on the other line and spoke up fast.
"Listen, this is me, umm...you, but about twenty years in the future. I just want to tell you that it gets better man. I promise it does, umm...so, just keep going."
I paused for a moment, not knowing what to say. I wanted the call to end so badly. I managed to get out one more thought.
"Remember this too. I love you. And Greg...I'm proud of you."
I set the receiver down on its base and took a deep breath.
Dr. Rosenthal cleared her throat and whispered.
"How did that feel, Greg?"
I sat up on the couch and looked up from the toy phone.
"Awkward. It felt incredibly awkward."
Her expression did not change as she reached for her calendar.
"Should we make your next appointment?"
For what? I thought. What good are these therapy sessions doing? Utterly pointless. I looked down at my phone and let out a winded sigh.
"I'd love to."
Future Flash Fiction contest entry
I looked down at the rotary phone sitting in my lap - the crease in the khaki slacks had flattened. I had been too lazy to iron, too apathetic to notice...until now.
Sure I could take them to a dry cleaners. Had I not been forced to boycott the local one.
The owner was abnormally friendly. It was foreign to me. He also spoke too much and far too close - the scent of coffee did little to mask the horror behind his breath. It was an angry aroma. You shouldn't be able to smell a conversation, I remember justifying to myself. Eventually I just couldn't do it anymore.
The iron still sits in its packaging on my kitchen counter. I just realized I have no idea how to iron, I chuckled.
This was a "defense mechanism" of mine, I am told. Apparently I use humor to mask uncomfortable situations. There was not a mask large enough for this phone call.
My nervous fingers began to fiddle with the coils of the loose cord, weaving themselves into the slack rope - its tautness worn away years ago. Rather than retract, it fell into piles on either side of me like wet noodles.
The faded teal phone was a plastic relic, tacky - but I understood it's appeal. I liked to imagine it was spotted atop a dusty shelf in some quaint New England antique shop.
In actuality, I'm sure it was acquired online and at a discount, no less. Antique shops were the true relics, I acknowledged to myself with a smirk.
I became aware of the silence on the other line and spoke up fast.
"Listen, this is me, umm...you, but about twenty years in the future. I just want to tell you that it gets better man. I promise it does, umm...so, just keep going."
I paused for a moment, not knowing what to say. I wanted the call to end so badly. I managed to get out one more thought.
"Remember this too. I love you. And Greg...I'm proud of you."
I set the receiver down on its base and took a deep breath.
Dr. Rosenthal cleared her throat and whispered.
"How did that feel, Greg?"
I sat up on the couch and looked up from the toy phone.
"Awkward. It felt incredibly awkward."
Her expression did not change as she reached for her calendar.
"Should we make your next appointment?"
For what? I thought. What good are these therapy sessions doing? Utterly pointless. I looked down at my phone and let out a winded sigh.
"I'd love to."
Sure I could take them to a dry cleaners. Had I not been forced to boycott the local one.
The owner was abnormally friendly. It was foreign to me. He also spoke too much and far too close - the scent of coffee did little to mask the horror behind his breath. It was an angry aroma. You shouldn't be able to smell a conversation, I remember justifying to myself. Eventually I just couldn't do it anymore.
The iron still sits in its packaging on my kitchen counter. I just realized I have no idea how to iron, I chuckled.
This was a "defense mechanism" of mine, I am told. Apparently I use humor to mask uncomfortable situations. There was not a mask large enough for this phone call.
My nervous fingers began to fiddle with the coils of the loose cord, weaving themselves into the slack rope - its tautness worn away years ago. Rather than retract, it fell into piles on either side of me like wet noodles.
The faded teal phone was a plastic relic, tacky - but I understood it's appeal. I liked to imagine it was spotted atop a dusty shelf in some quaint New England antique shop.
In actuality, I'm sure it was acquired online and at a discount, no less. Antique shops were the true relics, I acknowledged to myself with a smirk.
I became aware of the silence on the other line and spoke up fast.
"Listen, this is me, umm...you, but about twenty years in the future. I just want to tell you that it gets better man. I promise it does, umm...so, just keep going."
I paused for a moment, not knowing what to say. I wanted the call to end so badly. I managed to get out one more thought.
"Remember this too. I love you. And Greg...I'm proud of you."
I set the receiver down on its base and took a deep breath.
Dr. Rosenthal cleared her throat and whispered.
"How did that feel, Greg?"
I sat up on the couch and looked up from the toy phone.
"Awkward. It felt incredibly awkward."
Her expression did not change as she reached for her calendar.
"Should we make your next appointment?"
For what? I thought. What good are these therapy sessions doing? Utterly pointless. I looked down at my phone and let out a winded sigh.
"I'd love to."
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