Posted in flash fiction, friday fictioneers

Fried Okra

“I was surprised you agreed to get BBQ with me.”

“Why? I know the importance of good BBQ. I am from here remember?”

“Debatable.” 

“Oh, fuck off, it is not.” 

He tossed a sugar packet in my direction.

“For your ‘unsweet’ tea.”

I stared out the window, wondering if things would ever be the same. 

“Seriously, what are you going to eat?”

“Well, I do love fried okra.”

“You’re going to eat fried okra? That’s it?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t think anyone likes okra that much.”

“Blasphemy. Fried okra is the best okra.”

Brief smiles.

Sighs.

“Why are you here?”

Word Count: 99
Returning to Friday Fictioneers , after forever, with an only dialogue piece.

PHOTO PROMPT – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Posted in stream of consciousness, Word Prompt

You Are Not Gossamer

“My confidence is gossamer.”

“Gossamer?”

“Gossamer.”

“That guy was pretty confident I guess.”

“That guy?”

“Yeah, the heart guy. The big monster one. Like an olden days Kool-Aid man.”

“I don’t think … Gossamer is a word. It’s not a person or monster or whatever you’re talking about.”

“No offense, I know my Bugs Bunny. Maybe you mean another word?”

“Maybe you have the name wrong. My word is Gossamer.”

“Google it then. Let’s see who’s right.”

*furious typing*

“Gossamer, thin, delicate, insubstantial.”

“And, right there, Gossamer. Big red heart dude.”

“Huh. Ironic.”

“Yeah, also, have you met yourself? Your confidence is not “gossamer”. You’re not a wilting flower or silk blowing in the wind.”

RDP: Gossamer