A Short Scene

A Story by alittle

I just wanted to play with a small scene and single character.

Of all things, Ovlette feared honey the worst. Its intense viscosity made her feel suffocated, closed in and trapped against the swollen, wooden chairs of the kitchen table. No tea, this time. She couldn’t bare the sight of seeing it sulking away, malevolently taunting the safe and peaceful walls she’d built in her mind. The crisped wind marked a change in the seasons. She imagined small particles of dust sadly being swept away from their homes and dropped suddenly into a foreign wasteland.

It was 11 o’clock. She hadn’t any idea what she would do next. The cool metal of the spoon calmed her hand as she pondered the three coins left in her purse. It would not cover her meal, but a smile might buy her time. The waiter came forward and asked if there were anything else she would need.

“I’ll have a cup of warm water, with lemon on the side.” She said with the slightest twist of her lips.

He smiled, pleasantly, though riddled with irritation. She declined the cordial offer of honey with a direct no- tinged with defiance. The wind blew her skirt up slightly above her knees. The small canyons in her brown legs made her happy and everyone else subconscious. Cellulite was a friend to her- something that could never be filled in order to smooth away its presence.

As the waiter shuffled to the back of the restaurant. Calmly, as most ‘ladies’ do, she pushed back her chair, grabbed her satchel and headed for the gate. Its squeal of protest on the way out almost made her return to her table. Yet, she continued down the sidewalk.