You don’t know how hard it is to keep up with all the gossip in this town. Even on weeks like this when nothing happens.
But it’s my responsibility. I have to do it because none else will. It’s my job.
Today I’m sitting at the coffee shop. The no.1 place for gossip in this town.
I’m listening to a couple of high schoolers talking about the upcoming prom. Nothing of interest. It’s the same conversation every year.
A pair of men sitting a few tables away from me are discussing getting divorced.
”We don’t even sleep in the same bed anymore,” One of them said.
”But you can’t just flush thirty years of marriage down the drain.”
Well you can, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.
I guess if I can’t get anything better than this then I’ll have to write about older people getting divorced.
”Older generations are getting divorced” I might call the article. Then again I might just kill myself instead.
”I guess he’s just never going to get better,” A man said as he walked through the doors.
”Maybe I can finally take over the company.” He’s talking on the phone.
This is interesting. I can work with this.
”To be honest, I hope rehab doesn’t work for him” The man continued.
That’s it. I have my story.
”Furniture king in rehab” I might have to work on the title for a while, but I have my story.
”Perfect,” I say and write it down in my notebook.
”Thank you,” I tell the man as I leave the cafe. He doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
Another weeks work done.
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Categories: flash fiction