Lunch alone.

I once had an exercise on one of my older now forgotten blog of practicing writing short fiction in exact word numbers. For fun, for writing practice, for creativity.

It was called fast fiction friday – a super short fiction in 100 words done only on Fridays.

I now plan to start a new practice, every Friday, of Fast Fictions in 200 words instead of 100. (Gosh how I struggled with 100. I’m never known for keeping things short).  If you like you can write your own in the comments section – for fun, for practice, or just for the heck of it.

Give it a try, it really is fun, and challenging.

Here’s the first one:

I could tell from two tables down looking at her, that she hates eating out alone. I was once like her when I hadn’t reached the kind of independence to feel comfortable enough of isolation in public. There are things other people do when they eat out alone, and not wanting to look lonely. Some use their mobile to call people they would never talk to otherwise, some open laptops pretending they’re working at the same time, some pay intent attention to the food on their plate as if avoiding eye contact at all cost save them from judgments. For her, she just looked at her watch a lot, as if to suggest she’s not really eating out alone; but simply waiting for another person to join her at the table. Its pathetic but I totally understand the need to lessen the insecurity. She couldn’t help it, its defense mechanism.

 She looked a little out of place and awkward. I was feeling a little bit more charitable, so I paid for her lunch. I hope this time at least she’d feel it isn’t so bad after all to not have company at the table when eating out.

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