Flash Fiction |
On the Bench “Do I know you from somewhere?” The voice startled me, I was sitting on a bench at the park. It’s what I usually do when I’m there, though I let certain members of my family think I’m walking the whole time... Some people feel people my age need to be treated like children. I just let them, it makes them happy. However, I do not always do what they decide I should be doing just because they think it’s good for me. I looked up. The sun was in my eyes, but I could tell from the fuzzy white hair that it was an older head. Knowing I could probably flatten most people in my age bracket, I felt safe. “I don’t know,” I said. He sat down. His hair was white, but his skin a lovely tanned color and rosy cheeks, really cute, but I had no idea who he was. “You don’t look familiar,” I said. “Oh, well I think it was a while ago,” he said. “Oh,” I added, “from Pennsylvania maybe?” “Yes! That’s it!” he said, excitedly. Sadly, I’d never been to Pennsylvania, let alone lived there. He was just a scam artist. “Yes, I had my treatments in Pennsylvania.” “Oh dear, treatments for what?” “Oh,” I said, acting as if I’d just misspoken, “Nothing! Nothing important, it’s almost gone already!” He stood up. Not willing to let him off that easily, I took his hand as if to keep him there, and then I sneezed on it! He pulled it back quickly, but just let it hang there covered with wet sneeze. “Oh, I just remembered who I thought you were, my mistake,” he hurried away. I didn’t live for eighty-two years by being a pushover. I must admit, I giggled all the way home! |