The top of the
coffee table, was a true waltz into Emma and Daniel's soul. It had
all the necessities this loving couple would ever need. Here, on the
dark mahogany coffee table, etched with turn of the century British
schooners, were: a deck of blue plaid playing cards(extra glossy),
three coasters of Niagra falls, a mug of Postum, a dish of plain soda
crackers, with a few hearty slices of that orange squishy cheese, we
called Vel-veeta, Dan's favorite. Daniel was watching the "The
Honeymooners", with his total attention, sitting in his green leather
easy chair.
At the same time, Emma was singing some summertime love songs, busy preparing dinner in their tiny kitchen, seven floors up from the street, Devonshire Rd. It was a stately ten story red brick apartment building with a door man, white marble floors with french doors lining the entire back of the spacious room, emptying out into a lush tree and flower filled yard. At least in spring and summer.
Down the bread went into the toaster, a lovely shiny silver toaster fitting the thickest of bread slices, even a bagel.The time it took to walk twenty-two paces through the dining room, the long narrow living room, and finally to the den--to wake Daniel up from his little snooze and back again, is all the time that was needed for the toast to pop up golden brown. She spread some butter on the rye toast, and arranged the pieces carefully on the bluebird and sunshine china.
After boiling the mushroom beef carrot stew all afternoon, Emma began to ladle the rich burgundy infused melange onto Daniel's deep bowl, and then hers. Placing both plates on the dining room table, she lit one white candle for the sabbath, and called Daniel in. Dinner was savored, as Stravinsky played softly from the radio. After dining, and shortly before it became dark, they stopped at the large armoir in the living room. Emma opened the two doors of the cabinet, revealing a drawer housing a box of dark chocolates. She picked one for both Daniel and herself, and held them in her left hand, as she reached to hold Daniel's left hand with her right hand.
They retired into the den with their chocolates neatly resting on a pale olive linen napkin. Sitting on the black and white love seat, hands held relaxed, Daniel said he'd do the dishes. In the morning.
~Flash fiction, by Kate Lamberg(all rights reserved)
At the same time, Emma was singing some summertime love songs, busy preparing dinner in their tiny kitchen, seven floors up from the street, Devonshire Rd. It was a stately ten story red brick apartment building with a door man, white marble floors with french doors lining the entire back of the spacious room, emptying out into a lush tree and flower filled yard. At least in spring and summer.
Down the bread went into the toaster, a lovely shiny silver toaster fitting the thickest of bread slices, even a bagel.The time it took to walk twenty-two paces through the dining room, the long narrow living room, and finally to the den--to wake Daniel up from his little snooze and back again, is all the time that was needed for the toast to pop up golden brown. She spread some butter on the rye toast, and arranged the pieces carefully on the bluebird and sunshine china.
After boiling the mushroom beef carrot stew all afternoon, Emma began to ladle the rich burgundy infused melange onto Daniel's deep bowl, and then hers. Placing both plates on the dining room table, she lit one white candle for the sabbath, and called Daniel in. Dinner was savored, as Stravinsky played softly from the radio. After dining, and shortly before it became dark, they stopped at the large armoir in the living room. Emma opened the two doors of the cabinet, revealing a drawer housing a box of dark chocolates. She picked one for both Daniel and herself, and held them in her left hand, as she reached to hold Daniel's left hand with her right hand.
They retired into the den with their chocolates neatly resting on a pale olive linen napkin. Sitting on the black and white love seat, hands held relaxed, Daniel said he'd do the dishes. In the morning.
~Flash fiction, by Kate Lamberg(all rights reserved)
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