Kim Martins
vanilla cappuccino
Yes, it was him. He walked into the Red Oak
Cafe and, for a fleeting moment, she thought he had spotted her tucked away in
the corner by the window. She preferred the obscurity of corners filled with
fake flowers and checkered tablecloths. She sipped the froth of her vanilla
cappuccino (with an extra shot and a dollop of cream).
They had met in the cafe years ago, when it
was called the Lygon, and the oak tree in the outside courtyard was as lanky as
they were. They sat together at this same window table where she listened to
the heartbeat of her future. But she learned that rushed promises are not
always kept.
His hair was thinner now and his waistline
fuller. He carried himself with that same steely confidence.
A woman with long, peppery hair waved to him
from a table near the cake counter. She wasn’t the type Peggy thought he’d go
for. Chunky silver rings and organic colours. She probably ordered a decaf soy
latte and ignored the carrot cake (with cream cheese frosting).
He threaded his way towards her. Their smiles
connected. Warm cheeks pressed together.
Peggy pulled out an old newspaper clipping she
kept in her purse and looked at the grainy photo of a younger man. The clipping
read: “Bob Templeton. Missing. Beloved husband of Peggy. Last seen
Christchurch. May 10, 1996. Reward.”
She ordered another vanilla cappuccino (with
lashings of cream) and tasted the sweet deceit.
Kim, your use of language is so powerful and expressive! Clearly, you've written flash fiction before! I love how you simultaneously described the oak tree and themselves, how your use of crisp sentences adds effective details and keeps the story flowing, and how you contrast the love of sweet treats as a character virtue vs. the rejection of them as a non-virtue. Please keep up the wonderful writing!
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