In Their Cups

The barista set Solo on the table beside Dixie, who’d been waiting.

Dixie’s lip curled enticingly.

Solo sat steaming.

Put off by his brewing, Dixie hesitated, percolating. She swallowed, perked up, and decided to quaff that chalice dry. “Solo, I’ve been thinking about us.”

Solo sat on his rim as if not listening.

Dixie gulped. “I mean…I care about you.” It was a lot to imbibe. She let him drink it in.

“Hey, Dix, you’re a tall glass,” Solo finally said, “but it was a one-nighter, a binge. Get a handle.”

Dixie was crushed, crumpled, eventually…recycled.


The Meta-Story:  Last week I went far afield from the prompt with The Argonaut, so I decided to stick more closely to the picture this week.  I may have gone a bit overboard–again.  This time in the opposite direction.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: 100-word stories

Photo prompt: Dawn M. Miller