Somebody Out There ....

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
This flash fiction story was inspired by a Reba McIntire song by the same name as the flash fiction story. He spends weeks trying to get the courage to ask her out. Ironic circumstances then makes it easy for him to do so. I am a minimalist writer. I try to make each sentence move forward to a funny or surprise ending. Remember: Its not the more you write, the better it is. Get to the point!

Submitted: May 25, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 25, 2012







By Art Lefkowitz


He sits at his usual corner table in the diner. He stares at the back of the head of the beautiful blonde, seated at the table in front of him. He is annoyed at himself because for weeks he has lacked the courage to approach her. While he is fantasizing about her, the waitress brings his coffee and eggs.

“Morning, John, How are you today?” the waitress asks.

“Oh, okay, I guess. I’m bored and just in a rut,” John replies.

The waitress grins and asks, “How’s your love life?”

“I think I’ve given up on that,” he replies.

“Well, don’t give up, I’ve been there myself. I know what that is like. But, you never know, the person you’re looking for may be somebody you walk by every day, but never really see.” she advised.

John thinks about what the waitress has said, but soon starts reading his paper. The beautiful blonde at the table in front of him, stands up, unhooks her purse from the back of her chair, and as she pulls her purse straps up to her shoulder, the purse hooks under John’s table and tips it enough to cause his coffee and eggs to slide onto his lap. The coffee scalds his thighs, but he bites his lip to keep from crying out. She grabs a handful of napkins from the dispenser and is wiping the eggs and coffee off his suit. He tries to tell her it’s ok, but she blurts out a steady stream of apologies and begs his forgiveness for being so clumsy and insists on paying for his dry cleaning. She quickly scribbles her phone number on a napkin and hands it to him. He looks into her beautiful azure blue eyes and notices a tear in the corner. She stops to wipe the tear away and catch her breath. In mock anger, he tells her, “There is only one way to resolve this, you must let me take you out to dinner.”

Her eyebrows arch up, she starts to say something but can only gasp.

“Is Italian ok? I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress casually. I’ll wear a yellow plastic raincoat in case you tip more tables over,” he says. 

She laughs, hugs him, and says, “See you at seven”. As she walks away.



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