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June Flash-fiction

Taylor lugged his carry-on to a chair on the aisle at the gate.  An hour and five minutes until boarding.  He didn't think John, his supervisor, would be there for half an hour.  Priding himself on his efficiency, John always said if you got to the airport too early, you just weren't planning well enough.  So, Taylor -- maybe "inefficient" Taylor -- had plenty of time to call Julie now.  He certainly wanted to, as he felt badly they hadn't done a proper good-bye. The kids had been rushing off to school at the same time he had been loading up for the airport.

4 Responses to June Flash-fiction

  1. Taylor poked at his “smart” phone, trying to put a call through to Julie. He never could get the thing to work–the first time. He wondered if that other Taylor, the one known for efficiency and scientific management, would have been able to calculate how much time was lost trying to navigate the menus on the latest and greatest operating system for phones; Taylor liked the old ones–the ones he actually could understand.

    In the meantime, his eyes flitted above the phone as he also kept his eyes on what was going on around him. Growing in his subconscious was the realization that a woman was watching him. She was not hiding it. She was not shy about making eye contact. Finally, Taylor realized that she must want his attention.

  2. She smiled at him.
    A nervous flutter tickled his stomach. He smiled back, and regretted doing so the instant he did.
    Her hair was in a tight pony tail, revealing a long neckline–the kind of neckline that always got Taylor’s attention. Her grey business suit and skirt accentuated a tiny waistline. Before he knew it she had sat down beside him.
    “Are you going to Miami too?” she asked.
    “Yes,” Taylor said, trying to sound confident.
    “I think you should buy me a drink when we get there.”
    Taylor began to sweat. He was in a jam now and he knew it.

  3. “Actually, I’m married,” he blurted self-consciously, his eyes furtively glancing at hers and then away to a coffee shop near their gate. “Happily, that is,” he added with a tardy emphasis.

    She took him in with disbelieving eyes. A wry grin painted her smooth, pink face. Turning over her left hand in her lap, she exhibited a large diamond on her ring-finger. “So am I. But that shouldn’t prevent us from getting to know one another, should it?” She shifted in her chair toward him, extending her right hand. “I’m Felicia Sturdivant.”

    “Taylor,” he instinctively took it as he had hundreds of other hands in business greetings. “Taylor Evans. I’m pleased to meet you.” Only he really wasn’t, was he?

  4. In an instant, before he let go of her delicate hand, he could hear his wife’s voice run the terrible play-by-play in his mind.

    “Returning her persistent eye contact was your first fumble. Talk about a rookie move. Taking inventory of her neck and waistline was an interception you utterly failed to block. Letting her sit down beside you without snatching up your carry on bag and excusing yourself to try calling me again was practically handing her the ball. Taking her hand after she mocked both of your marriages? The game is practically over and you’re getting decimated! Where the hell is John?”

    Taylor wondered what John would think if he was still talking to Felicia when he showed up (just in time for the plane to start boarding passengers, of course). He knew how John felt about wasting time, but perhaps for that very reason, he had no idea where John stood on just about anything else.

    Just then, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

    Felicia wrinkled her nose at the possible interruption. “Oh, you don’t have to get that, do you?”

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