Potted Plant

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a very short story about a man who lost his employment, his job and could not forget the pain of it, and his plant in a pot that once stood in his cubicle or office, always reminds him of his former happiness.

Submitted: October 28, 2016

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Submitted: October 28, 2016



Potted Plant

Copyright 2016

by Patricia Louise McGurk


They leave or left on a "Writer's Prison Bus", as they called their transportation to another area, and became known as "Troublemakers in Democracy" as they highlight television names and broadcasts they do not desire, such as "Starving Artists Painters Liquidiation Sales of Hotel Art".  One of the writers in a writing competition tood me that he was boarding the Writer's Prison Bus then, and asked me "Want to come with me?"  They and he disappeared from my life with hypnosis trance realities, but I still remember.  Did I ever know any of the many people across the United States whose photographs seem familiar?  I am not certain I knew them.

A man said, "I'll be carrying my potted plant, my plant in a pot that I saved from the Firings, and I will attempt to go to my Old Office againb, or the cubicle I called my office with the temporary walls, and I will wait to be told to leave again - the words changed over the years from "let go" of a job or employment, to "terminated" from employment in the United States, and sounds more foreboding.

They may charge me with the crime of stealing the key to the Men's Restroom, and if I returned to work, they will probably lock up in a drawer in my old desk, my personal dictionary I bought.  I will still try to sit down in my old chair, and set my heavy plant growing inside a plant pot down, on the floor. 

We, all of us, he said were evicted from the buildings as employees without employment or much notice at all, just handed a sheet of typed paper as they told us to leave, to exit the building and not return.  It seemed sudden, he added, and I lost my dictionary that I bought as they locked it in the desk drawer, the desk I could not sit at, or sit down and work again.

It seemed sudden and cruel.


© Copyright 2017 Ms Patricia Louise Mcgurk. All rights reserved.

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