I last posted this piece of flash fiction in 2018. At that time writing short stories was a new thing for me so I was really out of my comfort zone!
The writers group I belong to (watfordwriters.org) regularly runs a flash fiction competition where we have to write to a specific topic and word count. The subject here was “The Party”.
If you enjoy reading my story, please let me know. Your feedback really means a lot to me. Thanks!
SOMETHING IN COMMON
The party music was deafening.
“I can’t hear myself speak above this noise,” Jenny said to no one in particular. Then, turning to the woman nearest to her, “I hate works parties don’t you?”
“Makes a break from home” yelled the other into Jenny’s ear.
The music stopped for a second and the two women smiled at one another. “I’m Jenny”, said one, “from the Hertford office”. “Donna,” volunteered the other, “Camden branch.”
They moved into the adjoining room where it was quieter and found some seats. “Can’t wait to get these off”, said Donna slipping off her high heels. Jenny nodded in agreement. “I’ve given up killer heels. It’s trainers for me from now on. Much easier for school runs with our three. You got kids Donna?”
“We have a dog. Hubbie doesn’t want children. Trouble is he’s away so much on business that I’m the one that has to walk it every day.
“It’s the same for me” Jenny sighed. “I do all the work – mine’s never around!”
“Men!” they exclaimed in unison.
“Yet we can’t live without them can we?” smiled Donna. “And mine’s not so bad. He still knows how to give me a good time.”
“You’re lucky”, Jenny responded. “It’s different once you have kids. At the first hint of anything that needs doing, mine’s off. Disappears for days! Even at Christmas! Sometimes I feel like a single mum. Even when we’re away it’s the same. Always self-catering and it’s all down to me. I might as well be at home.”
Donna nodded sympathetically. “Yes, I am lucky Jenny. We’ve had some fantastic holidays. Ever been to the Maldives?”
Jenny shook her head dismally. “The most we’ve ever had is a day trip to Calais.”
Donna was busily scrolling through her photos.
“Look – this was taken outside our holiday bungalow last Christmas.” Jenny looked at the photo. Took off her glasses, cleaned them and peered at it again. “I must have had too much to drink – your bloke looks just like my Dennis”.
“Dennis!” shrieked Donna. “My husband’s name is Dennis!”
© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems