A Love Story
Flash Fiction
My older sister, Layla, works at the bookshop near the university.
On Fridays, I meet her there for lunch. We sit on the wooden bench out front and eat sandwiches from the deli on the corner. I usually arrive early because I like to observe the people passing by and eavesdrop on their conversations. They talk about their classes and going to parties. Sometimes they talk loudly into their cell phones and I can only hear one side of the conversation.
I hear Layla’s voice behind me and turn my head. She’s flirting with someone. “No,” she says with a laugh, “not today, my sister is here for lunch.”
A woman wearing Chanel №5 passes by. The scent of her gets stronger as she approaches and dissipates as she passes. She is also wearing high heels that go click-click-click as she rushes by.
Layla comes up behind me and whispers, “A boy is taking me to the movies on Friday.” She’s giddy. She sits down next to me and places a sandwich in my lap.
I can tell it’s tuna before I even unwrap it.
“They were out of turkey,” she says. “Can you believe that? A deli with no turkey.”
We sit and talk. She tells me about the boy taking her to the movies. He delivers the UPS packages and flirts with her every day at three o’clock. She says he’s…
