An elderly woman goes through her memories in the presence of two strangers who would much rather, and rather quickly, be elsewhere.
“… And that was me here, in the middle. Didn’t I look adorable?” The woman raised her head and looked up at Michael.
“Oh, beautiful. Yes, yes…” His patience was wearing thin and his stomach growled.
Peter, the other man in the room, touched the handles on the back of the chair. He nodded at Michael and mouthed, “Let’s get out of here.”
The woman grabbed another framed picture off the wall. “See here, young man. I have met many famous people in my best days. This is me with…” She paused and handed the picture to Peter. “What was his name? Do you know, young man?”
Peter checked the time on his watch. “I…” He swallowed. “I may be too young for this, madame. Please, come with us now; we will figure it out on the way, I promise.”
Undeterred, the woman extended her hand to grab another picture. The skin on her trembling right hand was stretched like thin parchment, the veins following a pattern like written ink. Her left hand hung at her side like dead wood. Her head was bobbing rhythmically. Then she stopped and said, “My children. They need to be brought to school. Will you take care of this?”
A noise, a car honking, drew her attention for a moment.
“Pssst,” Peter whispered to Michael, while pointing at his watch.
“I know, I know,” Michael said, making calming gestures with his hands. “Frau Bauer…” he started to speak but the woman interrupted him.
“Kitty, call me Kitty. It reminds me of when I was young…” Once more her gaze glided over the picture wall. “I like to be reminded of that time.”
Peter was nervously looking at his watch, and then outside the window. It was dark, and the street was silent. But now, the faint sound of distant sirens crept in on the calm.
“We are running out of time here,” Peter said, his bluntness uncharacteristic.
“Frau Bauer.” Michael repeated. He twisted his hands, rolled his eyes, and changed his strategy: “Kitty. We need to leave.”
The woman paused. Her head bobbing stopped. “Okay, if you ask me so nicely, dear Frank.”
The sirens grew louder as they passed by.
“Fold your hands. Please, do not grab anything. We will carry you.”
Michael went in front of the chair and bent his knees to grab the handles on the bottom. The two men carried the woman downstairs to their car. She clutched the picture tightly to her chest as the men drove her away into the night.
Discussion
I’m curious about your interpretation. What could the men be doing? What seems likely, and what doesn’t?
Background
The contest was initiated by Charlie Finch. It featured a photo prompt (below) and the task to compose a piece of flash fiction with a 500 word limit. Not unlike the typical conference or paper abstract.
This short story was featured at the end of the contest: Check it out here
Thanks, Katharine English! 🙂
The title image creation of Kitty was assisted by AI-tools, because I can write but definitely cannot draw.
Don’t forget to check out my novel section: Novels – Florian Puhm, PhD
Get my debut novel “Overqualified: Lab Bench to Street Side” here: https://books2read.com/u/b59kMG