Here’s a little context-setting for today’s Flash. Yesterday my writing buddy Kathan posted her search for a character, Looking for my next character. Writing buddy Dayner posed the challenge to write Friday Flashes around one of the characters Kathan saw at Starbucks.
Could I resist? Of course not. But I couldn’t pick just one character, so they’re all in there. Even though one of them rules. Even though this is kinda long for my Flashes. Here goes:
She made a beeline for the table closest to the fireplace. It was freezing today, but there was so much blood on her jacket she’d felt compelled to toss it in a Dumpster as soon as she left the office. Pity, she thought, that was her most expensive suit. She wished she’d worn some silly cardigan instead but, no, she was going for the whole power shtick today.
Well, power was what she wanted, and power was what they got.
She inhaled the rich steam wafting from the next table. Was that a venti white mocha, no whip? Her personal favorite?
She whispered something to the mousy young woman holding the steaming cup. The young woman set down the cup and raced toward the Starbucks exit, knocking over an old man in overalls in her haste to leave.
She reached across the tables, noticing small specks of dried blood on her fingers, some chipped polish. Maybe she’d get a fresh manicure once she warmed up. She could use some pampering.
She took a sip, savoring the hot liquid as it slid down her throat. Yes, white mocha, no whip.
Her personal favorite.