Flash Fiction

The following is a "Flash Fiction" story I wrote after learning about Flash Fiction. This story has been playing in my mind for a few years, but I felt overwhelmed to write it because I thought it had to be five hundred pages. I am very happy to present my short story called Sifting Through, which is only a few paragraphs long.

The Lady and Gentleman sat down to breakfast at their favorite table in their favorite café every morning at 9:50 a.m. just as they had every Sunday for the past half century.

Although most things had changed, the table had not. It was an antique from the Old World decorated with fine intricacy. Sometimes they’d pick a spot to stare at and pretend to be in the past. The abstract swirls of mosaic seemed to embody all that had been.They’d look up and smile. The smiles were not normal although certainly natural.

Their waiter had been gone for two hours.

No one was more surprised at how expediently society had rebuilt its social structures than the proletariat. There’d always been talk of cataclysm or revolution, “the first being last and the last being first”, but no one expected the same ruling class to step right back into their shoes as if nothing had happened. People required leadership, it would seem.

Something about a garnish on a platter whisking by reminded the Lady of their server’s jacket. There were so many things like that which one just didn’t mention.

The people who’d always had things still had them. Today, their waiter had been promised three ounces of lamp oil for every ten ounces of anything edible he could bring to them.

After three hours he was declared dead and a new one assigned.