Interview

When I stepped out of the car, I took a deep breath and cleared my mind.

I hadn’t been interviewed in years and now older, I didn’t know what my chances were of getting hired. My friend recommended me to the department head, and I hoped that would get my foot in the door.

I had my briefcase in hand with an excellent portfolio and references. What more would they want?

I opened the door and entered the office only to be told by the receptionist that the manager had an emergency and I’d have to come back another day.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Heater

"Would you like another heater, Ralph?"

Madge, the waitress, offered to add some hot coffee to Ralph's half-empty cup on the diner's linoleum counter. Behind her, racked, were the assorted pies, the lemon meringue with only two slices left.

"I'll take some." Ralph half-smiled. "I guess that's like you, Madge."

"What'd you mean?

"You like your coffee hot, and your men hotter."

Bracing herself on the counter, Madge stared at him. Would Al leave anything more than a 10% tip? What were the chances?

"I guess we're a little different. You go for the lukewarm guys, don't you, Al?"

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Easter Sunday

Through the window, the sun beams against my face. It’s Easter Sunday and the family will be arriving this evening. I haven’t seen my cousins since the Covid-19 quarantine and we’re all nervous. Do we need to wear masks to avoid breathing on each other, I wonder? We didn’t discuss it, so my husband and I will take our chances.

The food is prepared and cooking on the stove. The lamb and spices fill the room with a delectable aroma and I’m leaning against the counter sipping wine.

I drop my glass when the doorbell rings. I can’t do it.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Taking Chances

I held the charred remains of something dear to me. Last glowing sparks from the fire catapulted towards the night sky, disappearing upon impact.

“Have more wine,” my friends encouraged. “You’ll sleep easier.”

I took the bottle, poured a glassful. Considered my next move with every sip. What if this happens again? Can I take more defeat?

We sat at the scene of the blaze. The nearby forest receded into a thickening mist. I removed that which once was from my clasp and attached another to the end of my skewer.

Toasting marshmallows over a campfire need not be complicated.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She resides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband and stuffed animals and many friends.