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  • Fred Smith

Inopportune (Flash Fiction)

They were sitting patiently near the fountain. She found it calming. It made him want to take a leak. The son said into his phone, “I can’t. We’re at the credit union. The federal credit union.” Mom clutched her purse with two hands across her chest like it was her son the time when he was six and spent the night alone in the woods. An Asian boy with tight shorts and a nose ring sprayed himself with a bottle before stepping through the automatic door into the lobby. The son rolled his eyes and reached for the Coke can to spit his dip in before he realized that there was no can, nor chaw in his lip. Quitting something you loved was tons harder than starting something you were unsure of, especially when starting demanded an upgrade in wardrobe. “I can’t. I have to go in soon.” He picked his head up when he heard his name and broke out in a flopsweat when realized he'd been addresses as "Mister." “Now. I have to go now.” He stood up and looked to his mom, then said. “Two hounds on the porch, dad says.” Mom said, “Yours?” “Nah, but not much I can do about it.”

A Crack in the Room Tone

Stories for a noisy world 
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