Short story: A good dinner


“Something I ate,” Ingrid said, resting her head on the toilet seat. “You go. We can’t come all this way and both of us sit in the hotel room for the weekend.” He kept his back to her; could never cope with sickness.

In the old quarter he asked for a street-side table for one, ordered a 2005 Vieux Château Certan, ate cassoulet, and drinking his coffee, watched the girls go by. When he had paid he chose a pretty one, older than Ingrid, who took him to an attic room.

On the flight home Ingrid told him she was pregnant.


Update: Quite rightly everyone hated the man in this story. So the week after I wrote it, I thought I would see if I could change readers’ minds about him, when they had more facts. Click here to read A Good Dinner Part II.

Apologies to Sandra for not only writing my first idea, but also writing about ladies of the night, but they both fitted so well this week.

For those who don’t know how Friday Fictioneers works, this picture, supplied this week by Kent Bonham is our inspiration for our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click here to read other people’s amazing stories or to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.

36 thoughts on “Short story: A good dinner

  1. As always, Claire, beautifully written story about someone who, if you took out the first letter and dropped a bit more than half the rest, would be perfectly described by the remains of a good. “cassoulet”.



  2. Oh why do I feel so badly for poor Ingrid. You have a way of getting the character across without actually saying anything about the character – I hated him in 100 words. I hope he got heartburn from the cassoulet …


  3. Pingback: Short story: A good dinner (part II) | W O R K S

  4. I read your ‘forward back’ story as well! Can we ever be more than ‘eavesdroppers’ on other people’s lives? Your story shows how we can construct our stories by expanding out from one scene, sometimes exploding, sometimes imploding. 🙂


  5. I once went to Tokyo with my wife for a few days and she was in the hotel room most of the time with a high fever, so I went out and looked around and brought her back food. I didn’t do anything like this guy though. If I read this first, I would feel really bad for Ingrid, but I read the second one first, so it sounds like they weren’t made for each other.


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