The barista shook his head. That hedge couldn’t have moved closer overnight. Could it?
Something heavy and metal slammed onto the counter. He squeezed the Styrofoam cup in his fist, spilling the scalding latte onto his hand and wrist.
“Shit!” He yanked a handful of napkins from the dispenser, patted his throbbing, red hand, and crouched to the floor to wipe up the spilt coffee.
“Black,” a voice sounding like chalk on a blackboard spoke. An old woman with wrinkled, brown skin like rubber stared down at him. She wore an oversized lumberjack shirt, her head wrapped in the matching scarf, gray hair sticking out at the sideburns like whiskers.
“Coffee black.” She wrapped her fingers around the blades of a large pair of hedge clippers lying on the counter.
“Gimme a sec.” He tossed the napkins in the trash. Taking a glance out the window, he noticed the hedge in the parking lot, ruffling in the breeze.
“Hurry,” the woman said, “family’s waitin’.”
word count: 150
Mondays Finish the Story: a flash fiction challenge where we provide you with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. Your challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided.
Click the froggy icon to read other stories and add your own.