Fiction Friday

The Apple – Flash Fiction


“Hi Mother, How ar…”

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Sigh… Yes, Mother, it’s me. You don’t need to sound so disappointed.”

“Well, I’m busy. Here, let me put you on speakerphone.”

“I thought you hated the speakerphone. What are you doing?”

“I’m painting if you must know.”

“I didn’t know you painted. When did you start painting?”

“What? You don’t think I’m as good as you? Is that what you’re trying to say? Do you think …”

“No, I didn’t say that. Stop this! I was just making conversation. I… What are you painting?”

“I don’t know what business it is of yours. An apple if you must know.”

“I’ve done a few still lifes myself. They can be hard to get just right.”

” I don’t think I would call this a still life… then again… ”

“Look, Mom, the reason I called was to say happy birthday and see if I could take you to lunch or something. I’m right around the corner.”

“I’m not your mother! I just married your useless father and got stuck with you!”

“I… but… Mom?”

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive! Now, if you’re going to take me to lunch, I need to finish this apple before you get here, so I’m going to hang this up.”

“I’m just pulling in the driveway now.”

“Already? I just put the final brush stroke and running in to check my face. See you in a sec.”

“Mirror mirror on the wall…






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