Friday Flash Fiction 2
THAI CURRY
By Gareth L PowellAfter dinner, we bought a bottle of wine and took a taxi back to her flat. The fire escape opened onto a flat section of roof, still warm from the day’s heat.
'Sit down, make yourself comfortable,' Nina said.
She smelled of patchouli. She wore a black cocktail dress and had her hair chopped into a platinum Warhol mop. There was a silver pendant around her neck and – when she finally took the dress off – a vertical scar between her breasts.
She saw me looking at it and touched it with her fingers. It made her uncomfortable.
'I once lost my heart,' she explained.
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3 comments:
I'm glad you brought this back, Gareth - I remember seeing it on your blog a while back, but the post was deleted a few days later.
I'll be joining in as soon as I sort my site/blog out (assuming I can bear to share my awful scrawlings with the rest of the SF blogosphere).
Thanks Shaun. I look forward to reading whatever you come up with.
The Spanish version of this story that appeared in Efimero #114 reads:
Después de cenar compramos una botella de vino y cogimos un taxi de vuelta a su piso. La salida de incendios conducía a una sección plana de la azotea, todavía caliente por el calor del día.
-Toma asiento, siéntete cómodo -dijo Nina.
Olía a pachuli. Llevaba un vestido negro de fiesta y el pelo cortado en una melena platino a lo Warhol.
Tenía un collar de plata alrededor de su cuello y -cuando finalmente se quitó el vestido- una cicatriz vertical entre sus pechos.
Ella me vio mirar la cicatriz y la tocó con sus dedos. Se sintió incómoda.
-Una vez perdí mi corazón -explicó.
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