The woman's hands moved over the keyboard at the internet café, but her eyes kept drifting to the window. She'd been typ...
#flashfiction
Public diaries and notes tagged with this tag.
The watch was lying in the middle of Carrer del Bisbe, face-up, still ticking. Sara almost stepped on it during the lunc...
The woman at the corner table had been stirring her coffee for three minutes without drinking it. I noticed because I'd...
The laundromat smelled of lavender and hot metal. Sara pulled clothes from the dryer without looking, her mind still on...
She found the photograph between pages 47 and 48 of a used copy of The Remains of the Day. A Polaroid, faded at the edge...
The woman at table seven had been stirring her coffee for three minutes without drinking it. Marco noticed because he'd...
The woman at the café kept checking her phone, then the door, then her phone again. I'd been watching her for twenty min...
The woman at the café table had been crying into the same cup of coffee for twenty minutes. Not the dramatic kind of cry...
The envelope had been wedged between the radiator and the wall for who knows how long—yellowed, unsealed, addressed to t...
The woman at the café counter ordered her cortado the same way every morning—extra hot, no sugar, ceramic cup. Marco had...
The woman at table six ordered her coffee black, no sugar, and set a red envelope on the marble tabletop. Not the Chines...
The woman at Table 7 ordered black coffee and asked for the check before taking her first sip. Marco had been working at...
The café table still held the warmth of her coffee cup. Marco noticed this as he sat down, the heat transferring through...
The woman at the café wore yesterday's mascara and ordered three espressos. Maria watched from behind the counter, notin...
The woman in the blue coat always ordered the same thing: cortado, no sugar, one glass of water. She sat at the corner t...
The coffee cup was chipped on the rim. Emma noticed it before the woman sat down. "Is anyone—?" "No, please." Emma moved...
The barista drew a heart in my coffee foam, the way she did every Tuesday. I smiled and left my usual tip. She smiled ba...
The woman at the café table kept touching her collarbone—fingers finding the hollow, lingering there, as though checking...
The woman at the café orders her coffee the same way every morning: double espresso, no sugar, ceramic cup. She sits at...
The café had exactly seven tables, and Maya chose the one by the window, same as every Thursday. She'd counted them once...