Romantic Friday Writers is a blogfest every Friday co-ordinated by myself and Francine Howarth. It is a fun event, showcasing the work of many fine writers who write romantic flash fiction or poetry under 400 words. Click on the icon in my sidebar or the link at the end of my post to check out others participating today or join the blogfest yourself. You will be most welcome. We are also found on twitter. We are @RFWER A winner is awarded the recognition of being the week's Featured Writer.
#Fridayflash is a group of writers who write flash fiction under 1,000 words every Friday to no particular theme. Click on the #Fridayflash icon in my sidebar if you want to access more stories.
Lunch Date
The coffee shop was wall to wall with regular customers. Hallie surveyed her domain from behind the counter. She was amazed at the business her little coffee shop drew – locals and foreigners, all meeting together like there was no war happening outside the walls. There was a buzz throughout the room. How did she end up running her business in the middle of a war zone? All she had between her shop and the dangerous streets of Kabul was a flimsy wall. She’d already had her front windows shattered when a bomb went off outside the market. Too close for comfort that one. But I love it here.
He walked in.
She noticed him right away. Being on high alert could be a life saver. He was tall and dark, dressed in black, with eyes hiding behind Ray Bans. A machine gun hung casually over his shoulder, while a sidearm hung from each his hip like he was some Wild West cowboy. Trouble? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe he was just after lunch. Ha! A plate of Qabli Pulao that Shari made so well, perhaps a plate of qorma, a cup of coffee, a platter of melons from Mazar-e-Sharif, or oranges from Jalalabad? Maybe grapes and pomegranates from Kandahar. A girl can dream.
She stepped across the room. “Hey there cowboy! Guns for lunch?”
He eyeballed her through his dark shades, shrugged his shoulders, scanned the room, then handed his armoury to Asmaan. His eyes never left Asmaan as his guns were toted behind the counter. He didn’t move until the lock clicked.
“Now, what’ll it be? Lunch?” she asked, as they sat at the last empty table, the one facing the entrance.
“I’m not so much hungry for food Hallie.” She knew it.
“Why not? We sell the best food you’ll eat in Kabul,” she teased.
He reached across the table and took her hand. She felt the fire.
“The food you can offer me is not to be taken here in a public place.” He brushed her cheek with fingers hardened in battle.
“Is that right cowboy?” Damn her voice for shaking.
Hallie kicked her chair away from the table. He knocked his to the floor. She ignored Asmaan’s smirk as on trembling legs she led her cowboy up the rickety stairs to her room where indeed a feast of a different kind waited.
395 words. FCA
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©DeniseCovey2011
