Lately I’ve been challenging myself to learn more about the art of writing the short-short story. So I’ve been reading a lot of good ones and making a few attempts at my own. The basic idea is to set a scene and tell a complete story in an ultra-short format. Here’s one of mine called…
Coffee With Lisa
Don Thompson
I ducked out of the cold rain into the low-lit warmth of my favorite coffee place but immediately regretted the move. Plotting a quick exit, I was stopped by a simple case of self-consciousness; if I left now, I’d look ridiculous. There were plenty of places to sit, no line at the counter, no obvious reason to turn around and walk out. But come on – really? Who would even notice, or give a rat’s ass if they did?
The reason for my panic was Lisa. I marveled at her ability – even after two years – to make me feel like a trapped animal. There she was, her red hair in striking contrast with the black leather chair where she sat with her back to me, tapping through pages on an iPad. I would recognize her slim lines, straight posture, knotted ponytail, and frenetic web-browsing style anywhere. It was definitely Lisa.
I can order my extra-hot double tall with-whip mocha quietly and get out before she notices me, I reasoned. Or I can look at my phone, shake my head and stride out now, feigning impatient importance. Yes, an excellent option. I reached for my phone.
“Can I get something started for you, sir?” asked a smiling barista, eliminating any possibility of an uncomplicated exit. Defeated, I walked up to the counter and ordered in a voice low enough to avoid alerting Lisa but not so quiet as to prompt another question from the barista. After paying for the drink, I stole over to the newspaper rack and pretended to study the front page of the Seattle Times while waiting for the hiss of the espresso machine to release me back onto the street with hot caffeine in hand.
“Ted?” I heard from Lisa’s general direction behind my back. “Ted, is that you?”
Shit.
I turned around. “Lisa, hey, wow, great to see you!”
She walked over, her smiling green eyes pinning me to the spot like a collected moth. She gave me a peck on the cheek and looked me over. “Good to see you too, Ted. You look good.”
“Thanks; you look amazing, as usual.”
She shrugged – a gesture I had always interpreted as “Yeah, I know” – and pointed toward the back of the room. “I’ve got a spot over there next to the fireplace. You have a few minutes? Sit and talk?”
“Sure, I’ve got all the time in the world.”
Now why do I do that, I asked myself. Why can’t I just tell the truth? “Lisa,” I should say, “I’m in a huge hurry this morning, already late for a meeting with my agent. Another time maybe?”
Okay, that would be a lie too, but at least it would be an honest one.
“Extra-hot double tall with-whip mocha,” the barista announced, and handed me the drink. “You two enjoy!”
I followed Lisa to the fireplace and settled into my assigned chair. Taking a careful sip of steaming mocha, I looked up, swallowed, and smiled.
“So,” she began. “how’s life post-Lisa?”
“Oh, not bad, I guess. You? How’re you doing?”
“Never been better. I landed a marketing position with a biotech startup right here in Seattle.”
“Really? That’s great, Lisa. You’ll be a natural.”
“You think so?”
“Oh yeah, definitely. I can really see you going places with that.”
“I hope so. It seems like a good move so far. Lots of hours, hard work, but tons of opportunity to move up. Great stock options, fired-up people. So, what about you? Are you still working on that novel? Seeing anyone?”
“What part of that do you want me to answer first?” I asked.
“Whatever.” Lisa brushed a few stray hairs back over an ear.
“Okay, yes, I’m still working on the novel. It’s moving along again and I’m pretty happy with it. I don’t know how my agent’s gonna feel about it, you never know, but I think it’s got some real substance.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“The second part?”
“Of the book?” I smiled.
Lisa gave me her best hands-on-hips frown.
“The answer’s yes. I am seeing someone.”
“Good. Good for you. What’s she like? She pretty?”
“Look, I’m really not that comfortable talking about this, okay?”
“Hey Ted, come on, it’s me. Talk to me.”
I took another sip of coffee and sighed. “Right, well, her name’s Claire, and yeah, I think she’s very pretty. Smart too, and one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. We get along great.”
“Really? What’s she do?”
“She’s a writer.”
“Ah.”
“What, you think that’s weird?”
“No, it’s just that, well, I don’t know. It sounds a little boring, you both doing the same thing and all.”
“It’s not boring, Lisa.”
“Good. That’s good. We don’t want boring, right? Life’s too short.”
“Right. Funny you should mention that. Claire just published a collection of short-short stories by that name: Life’s Too Short. And she’s always been a little sensitive about being so petite herself, so it kind of works on a bunch of levels.”
“Come on, Ted, you need to jump off the deep end more often. Things either work or they don’t, right? None of this ‘kind of’ crap.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes things just aren’t that binary. Most of the time, probably.”
“See – that’s what I’m talking about! That’s why you and I never totally worked.” Lisa finished her coffee and stared across me toward an empty chair.
“Does any relationship ever totally work? Every day? All the time?” I asked, sitting up a bit straighter.
“Well, not every single second, but...”
“Okay then.”
Lisa glanced at her phone and stood up. “Oh, hey, look at the time. Sorry Ted, but I’m gonna miss my next meeting if I don’t run. Maybe we could talk more another time?”
“Maybe… No, actually, I don’t think so.”
“What?”
I shook my head and stood up, facing her. “Best of luck with that job, Lisa, and with everything else.”
Lisa’s eyes widened and her mouth opened, but no words came. She looked beautifully human and I almost tumbled into her momentary softness. But instead, I felt a sad smile form on my face and managed to hold it long enough for her to understand. She turned, and with one final glance over her shoulder, Lisa was gone.
I sank back into my soft leather chair and gazed into the fire, feeling my pulse subside and enjoying the last ounces of concentrated sweetness at the bottom of my cup. Maybe I’ll order a decaf and stay a bit longer. It’s peaceful here by the fire and I’ve got all the time in the world.