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A quote: “We must welcome the future, remembering that soon it will be the past; and we must respect the past, remembering that it was once all that was humanly possible.” ~~ George Santayana
I’ll start with a story …
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He handed her his cup “I’ve heard you can read tea leaves.”
She smiled, swirling the cup three times. Leaning over to read the leaves, she went cold.
“Well?”
“Nothing. I mean,” she shrugged. “Let me make you a new cup.”
He glanced at his watch, “Sorry, lunch time’s over.”
“Just a few more …”
She felt a tap and turned to her boss, “Cass, customer, table 1.”
When she turned back, he had gotten up and was already at the shop door. He waved and left, trotting to the crosswalk.
She closed her eyes as she heard wheels squeal.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, Adobe stock, standard license
Politically Ambidextrous says: She sat there wondering what to do. The coronavirus test results would come soon. She was asymptomatic, but apparently, that didn’t mean anything with this virus.
If the results were negative, it would be a relief. Still, she’d continue to stay home. You never know who touched something. And it’s not like those who tested negative got a badge to wear. Besides, touching the wrong thing could infect you.
And If they were positive, there was still no treatment. She’d continue to stay at home, waiting to see if any symptoms developed. Hopefully not.
She heard the new email notification.
[…] via Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge — Victory Girls Blog […]
GWB says: She drank her broth and her tea. They soothed the symptoms and the nerves – the warmth, the salt, the flavors rolling over her tongue and the liquid running down her throat.
As she waited for the official results, she knew she had it. She and her children and husband. She knew because it was deliberate. They had consciously infected themselves.
She knew that people would say she was stupid. That she was monstrous for risking herself or her children in such a way.
But, she knew. She knew when it was all over, she and hers would be immune and could go back into the world to save it from itself. She knew fear was the mind-killer, and there would be no death of the mind in this house, no matter what the officials said.
(A little long. But dang, y’all’s were depressing.)
GWB says: Ah, I didn’t read yours (because linkback).
(Those are often just someone doing nothing but a link on their blog, with no commentary.)
And no, it isn’t. 🙂
Navig8r says: It started with a sniffle and a sneeze. He watched the usual progression of fretfulness, a little more intense this time for some unknown reason. The familiar ritual followed like clockwork. The lemon, the vinegar, the honey, the dried herbs and blossoms that he knew only by smell, the careful steaming, boiling, steeping, and straining. As the ritual drew to a close with the cup touching her lips, he stretched back on his window cushion for a nap, purring his profound gratitude to whatever Deity controls the universe that she had not found any books on herbal medicine for cats.
GWB says: *chuckle*
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