This weeks #1MinFiction

Nortina’s suggestion this week is Whirlwind

Inspired a little by Kate
My brief take on it is …..

She came like a whirlwind into my life late on a Tuesday afternoon. It was winter and with the night right behind her she appeared from nowhere through the snow at my window.
“Let me in,” she demanded.
Who could say no?
Once she had removed her coat and shoes and sat warming her toes by the fire I ventured to ask, “where did you come from?”. She chose not to answer directly but instead turned and pointed back out through the same window where all was now dark and bleak. I think I understood.

By Friday afternoon she was rearranging the furniture and instituting compulsory changes to the dietary traditions of the household. She refused to eat any meat other than fish yet smoked 20 cigarettes a day. She repainted the bathroom. Every night when I went to bed she was sitting in the same chair smoking and reading books that had been gathering dust on the shelves for decades. Every morning when I arose she was doing the same. I don’t think she ever slept.

Somewhere during all this she must have changed clothes because she looked just a little bit different every day. Though I don’t remember her coming with luggage. Her hair was long, dark and disheveled when she arrived but short and blonde three days later.

As soon as the weather lifted she was gone. There was a note pinned to the kitchen door.

“Keep watching for me,” the note said.

*******************

I did not have time in the allocated sixty seconds to figure out what it is supposed to mean.

NYC Midnight (again)

A few prompts appearing in my feed in the last week. Disasters Here and humiliation Here

and whist I have little to say on either subject it does remind me of the fact that the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge is on again in which I will again be eliminated in round 1
NYC Midnight

Will any one else be there? Or are you all beyond such trivialities?

One-Liner Wednesday & #JusJoJan Daily Prompt – January 10th, 2018

Linda’s Suggestion

This is not mine ….. I read it a few days ago and it comes from John Safron who was covering some protests in Melbourne that had taken on something of a racist flavour. The City Wine Shop (I have been there more than a few times) sits over the road from Parliament House.

At one stage, he writes about being here at the City Wine Shop, chatting to a waitress. “She’s folding up the tables, ready for the new rally. I say to her ‘When’s the race war starting today?’ and she says ‘Oh, about midday.’

#JustJoJan Day 9 – Coffee

Linda’s Prompt

Yeah …. coffee. I don’t get it.

In another life I used to wander the labyrinths of Rome during early mornings and be entranced by the aromas wafting out of the coffee shops and onto the cobblestone streets. Invariably a queue would wind out of the door and it seemed almost compulsory to join, if only out of respect for local tradition. The journey to the head of this snaking procession of Italian chatter could be long but filled with anticipation. When reaching the front a small piece of paper would be exchanged for a few lire and one could proceed to the counter where the brew would be created, in a fog of loud steam, in front of one’s eyes. There was excitement in the air.

There were no seats. Coffee was to be consumed standing up. And quickly. Particularly in the heart of winter one expected a seething hot mug of fire to contend with but the product was only lukewarm at best. A quick observation of fellow enthusiasts indicated that the technique was to upend the cup and consume its contents in one or two gulps then exit. The ritual was over.

Back on the streets I was always internally confronted with the question of “What was that all about?” But I would return the next day and do it again, anyway. I am a conformist. Particularly in a foreign land.

I recently purchased a Nespresso machine. I think this is considered an act of treason amongst real coffee drinkers, some of whom I have heard change addresses to be closer to ‘decent’ coffee. The machine has not made me feel like George Clooney. It may be making me sleep less. It may be making me sleep more. I can’t tell.

So yeah. Coffee. I don’t get it.