Short story: 708 Fulton


I thought I saw you today, going into 708 Fulton. You turned your head as you pushed the door open and the two hearts inside me leapt when I thought I caught a glimpse of ginger beard. Four lanes of traffic stopped to let me cross so I could hear you laugh again. The icy blast that followed me in, made the customers nearest the door glance up from their steaming coffee cups. Only the beardless man at the counter, an orange scarf still warming his neck, didn’t look at me standing there – expectant, yet already disappointed.


This piece of writing was inspired by the picture prompt provided by Jean L Hays for the Friday Fictioneers writing group run by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We all attempt to write 100 words (or so); finally this week I kept it to exactly 100.

I’d love to receive comments and constructive criticism. Click here to read other people’s stories inspired by this picture or to join in.