The young man nodded, though he eyed the offering with suspicion.
The clients were usually older. The old always wanted to relive memories. Something was always missing from the present. Donovan shrugged mentally. Whatever it takes to ease the pain.
“So... why 1995? Political climate more to your liking? Good year for baseball?”
“I got my reasons.” The kid slouched in his seat and scowled. An act, of course. From money, Donovan mused.
“Have it your way, son. Any questions?”
“It’s real?” the client asked slowly.
“How do you define ‘real’”? See---”
“Don’t fuck with me,” the kid grated.
Donovan sat back, frowning. “You just blew it. Happy now?”
“NO!” the kid stammered. “I want to get this started. Please. How does it start?”
“You’re already there.” Donovan pointed at the door.
The kid looked confused. “Just like that?”
The broker snapped his fingers. “Done.”
Hope entered the teen’s face. A second later a soft gray light filled the office as he opened the door.
He hesitated. “I would’ve paid ten times as much...”
The old man folded his hands. “My loss,” he said lightly, but the boy was gone.
Reaching out for a battered notebook on his desk, Donovan smiled faintly and drew a neat line through another name.
“Two more left,” he whispered.
Above is my entry for this week's Flash Fiction Challenge: http://diminishedfifth.blogspot.com/.
The rules were as follows:
- Maximum length: 250 words.
- The theme is: memory.
- The year is: 1995.
- Within the story, you must use this text: ease the pain.
5 comments:
I really enjoyed this Michelle. Well done.
It's fantastic what a few words can spark.
oooooooh. That was good.
Very well done...I enjoyed it thoroughly.
I really enjoyed this, and oh, I so envy people like you who can write such natural-sounding dialogue.
Very nice. Very nice indeed.
Post a Comment