Flash Fiction: Chances

By Michael Seese

Yesterday I wrote "Chances," for the Indies Unlimited flash fiction contest.

Here is the photo prompt:

 






















And here is the story:

Our chance encounter seemed so contrived that even Danielle Steele would have written it off. 

She saw me, standing there, dripping and pathetic, and offered to share her umbrella.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"The Café du Commerce. It's my favorite restaurant."

"That's my favorite as well! Are you meeting... Are you dining alone?"

"I am. It's my usual Tuesday ritual. Though I had to push it back a day, owing to a business appointment. You?"

"Alone."

"May I join you?"

Our dinner lasted until they began putting the chairs on the tables.

As we strolled toward our parting point, I chanced it. "May I... call you some time?"

"I believe in in destiny. If Fate wishes for us to be together, She will see that it happens. Perhaps at the market. In the park. Or waiting for the bus again. If you find me—when you find me—place a passionfruit where I may see it. Then I will know it was Her hand."

Two days hence, I stood outside an apartment on the Rue du Prony, waiting. Twenty minutes later, she appeared at the window. A small smile broadened into a ray of sunlight when she spied the gift.

She took it, nodded toward the entrance of her building, and closed the shutters. I smiled, and turned away just as the explosion shattered the afternoon air and, I assumed, the girl.

I pulled the notebook from my pocket, and crossed another name off my list.

Not too dark, eh? Let me know what you think.

Oh, and you still have until 8:00 p.m. EST on April 1 to enter.