| General Flash Fiction posted December 17, 2021 |
  |
Covid makes us all feel lost.
Lost Lambs
by RodG
"You look lost," Meg said, slipping behind me to fill her mug with fresh-brewed coffee.
I stood at the counter by the sink, staring out the window at our backyard. Grim. The snow lay thick and smooth like whipped cream across the lawn. The bushes and trees, all bare for months, were gray and lifeless. No birds flocked to the feeder, the snowy plot below littered with shells. The thermometer attached to the window showed -2 F.
"I am," I muttered.
"You haven't played with your trains in days," she said, nodding at the door to the basement. "Why?"
"I go down there, and I'm all alone."
She draped an arm around my shoulders. "You want your buddies."
"Yep."
"You could ZOOM like I do with the ladies in my Garden Club."
"No, I want live camaraderie . . . like we used to have. I want to sip coffee with the guys. I know they miss our meetings, too."
"Is Morning Wake-Up still open?"
"Couldn't tell you, and Steph's not worked there since July."
MW-U was a coffee house in Claremont, the community just west of us. Steph was my divorced daughter who'd moved back in with us with my grandson Billy eighteen months earlier.
"Lost lambs, the lot of you," Meg said, kissing my cheek.
The land-line phone hanging on the wall rang. Meg answered.
"Hi, Herb, how are you? And Janet? . . . Great! . . . Yes, he's right here."
"Herb!" I said jubilantly. "What's up? . . . You're kidding! Yeah, I'll meet you there in . . . uh . . . fifteen minutes."
I hung up the phone and grinned at Meg.
"Morning Wake-Up is open. Herb's there now. Village rules have loosened to allow thirty-percent occupancy inside, but masks are still required."
Meg patted my shoulder. "Go, my lamb. Have fun."
"Thanks, Bo Peep." I stepped into the mud room, wagging my tail behind me.
***
The coffee house was indeed open, but a stiff wind blew in every time a customer entered. And they were numerous. Most were train commuters who grabbed a styrofoam cup of coffee, then left. Carlotta, standing behind her counter, had my muffin and mug ready.
"Missed you, missed this." I swept my arm in an arc.
"Not so many commuters," she said. "Almost closed in November, but I'm still here."
"And my buddies are back, or will be soon," I said with burning cheeks.
I joined Herb at our old table by the muraled wall. He still wore his wool coat. I kept mine on.
"Allen," he said, raising his metal thermos. "To better times ahead."
"I sure hope so. This pandemic's lasted a year and no end in sight. You been vaccinated?"
He nodded. "Last week, Janet and I both got the first dose. You?"
I shook my head. "Meg and I were scheduled for shots at the high school yesterday. Got an e-mail saying they didn't have enough vaccine."
Herb smiled in that boyish manner I'd missed.
"But all's not lost," he said. "We're back here."
Lost - Flash Fiction writing prompt entry
"You look lost," Meg said, slipping behind me to fill her mug with fresh-brewed coffee.
I stood at the counter by the sink, staring out the window at our backyard. Grim. The snow lay thick and smooth like whipped cream across the lawn. The bushes and trees, all bare for months, were gray and lifeless. No birds flocked to the feeder, the snowy plot below littered with shells. The thermometer attached to the window showed -2 F.
"I am," I muttered.
"You haven't played with your trains in days," she said, nodding at the door to the basement. "Why?"
"I go down there, and I'm all alone."
She draped an arm around my shoulders. "You want your buddies."
"Yep."
"You could ZOOM like I do with the ladies in my Garden Club."
"No, I want live camaraderie . . . like we used to have. I want to sip coffee with the guys. I know they miss our meetings, too."
"Is Morning Wake-Up still open?"
"Couldn't tell you, and Steph's not worked there since July."
MW-U was a coffee house in Claremont, the community just west of us. Steph was my divorced daughter who'd moved back in with us with my grandson Billy eighteen months earlier.
"Lost lambs, the lot of you," Meg said, kissing my cheek.
The land-line phone hanging on the wall rang. Meg answered.
"Hi, Herb, how are you? And Janet? . . . Great! . . . Yes, he's right here."
"Herb!" I said jubilantly. "What's up? . . . You're kidding! Yeah, I'll meet you there in . . . uh . . . fifteen minutes."
I hung up the phone and grinned at Meg.
"Morning Wake-Up is open. Herb's there now. Village rules have loosened to allow thirty-percent occupancy inside, but masks are still required."
Meg patted my shoulder. "Go, my lamb. Have fun."
"Thanks, Bo Peep." I stepped into the mud room, wagging my tail behind me.
***
The coffee house was indeed open, but a stiff wind blew in every time a customer entered. And they were numerous. Most were train commuters who grabbed a styrofoam cup of coffee, then left. Carlotta, standing behind her counter, had my muffin and mug ready.
"Missed you, missed this." I swept my arm in an arc.
"Not so many commuters," she said. "Almost closed in November, but I'm still here."
"And my buddies are back, or will be soon," I said with burning cheeks.
I joined Herb at our old table by the muraled wall. He still wore his wool coat. I kept mine on.
"Allen," he said, raising his metal thermos. "To better times ahead."
"I sure hope so. This pandemic's lasted a year and no end in sight. You been vaccinated?"
He nodded. "Last week, Janet and I both got the first dose. You?"
I shook my head. "Meg and I were scheduled for shots at the high school yesterday. Got an e-mail saying they didn't have enough vaccine."
Herb smiled in that boyish manner I'd missed.
"But all's not lost," he said. "We're back here."
I stood at the counter by the sink, staring out the window at our backyard. Grim. The snow lay thick and smooth like whipped cream across the lawn. The bushes and trees, all bare for months, were gray and lifeless. No birds flocked to the feeder, the snowy plot below littered with shells. The thermometer attached to the window showed -2 F.
"I am," I muttered.
"You haven't played with your trains in days," she said, nodding at the door to the basement. "Why?"
"I go down there, and I'm all alone."
She draped an arm around my shoulders. "You want your buddies."
"Yep."
"You could ZOOM like I do with the ladies in my Garden Club."
"No, I want live camaraderie . . . like we used to have. I want to sip coffee with the guys. I know they miss our meetings, too."
"Is Morning Wake-Up still open?"
"Couldn't tell you, and Steph's not worked there since July."
MW-U was a coffee house in Claremont, the community just west of us. Steph was my divorced daughter who'd moved back in with us with my grandson Billy eighteen months earlier.
"Lost lambs, the lot of you," Meg said, kissing my cheek.
The land-line phone hanging on the wall rang. Meg answered.
"Hi, Herb, how are you? And Janet? . . . Great! . . . Yes, he's right here."
"Herb!" I said jubilantly. "What's up? . . . You're kidding! Yeah, I'll meet you there in . . . uh . . . fifteen minutes."
I hung up the phone and grinned at Meg.
"Morning Wake-Up is open. Herb's there now. Village rules have loosened to allow thirty-percent occupancy inside, but masks are still required."
Meg patted my shoulder. "Go, my lamb. Have fun."
"Thanks, Bo Peep." I stepped into the mud room, wagging my tail behind me.
***
The coffee house was indeed open, but a stiff wind blew in every time a customer entered. And they were numerous. Most were train commuters who grabbed a styrofoam cup of coffee, then left. Carlotta, standing behind her counter, had my muffin and mug ready.
"Missed you, missed this." I swept my arm in an arc.
"Not so many commuters," she said. "Almost closed in November, but I'm still here."
"And my buddies are back, or will be soon," I said with burning cheeks.
I joined Herb at our old table by the muraled wall. He still wore his wool coat. I kept mine on.
"Allen," he said, raising his metal thermos. "To better times ahead."
"I sure hope so. This pandemic's lasted a year and no end in sight. You been vaccinated?"
He nodded. "Last week, Janet and I both got the first dose. You?"
I shook my head. "Meg and I were scheduled for shots at the high school yesterday. Got an e-mail saying they didn't have enough vaccine."
Herb smiled in that boyish manner I'd missed.
"But all's not lost," he said. "We're back here."
|
Writing Prompt Write a flash fiction story under 500 words about being lost |
Art work courtesy of Google images.
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