Buoyed by my win last week, I came up with two stories for this week's Flash! Friday.
This was the photo.
To help you understand the first story, the caption of the photo is "1943 crash landing on the USS Enterprise. " We had to include as a character a lawyer. So here is "The Red One Or The Blue One?"
William wiped mock sweat from his brow.
"Which one? Which do I cut? The red wire or the blue one?"
Gracie's expression did not change.
"Damn it, Jim! I’m an attorney. Not a munitions expert. Why don't you ask that cursed Vulcan which is the more logical choice?" William chuckled a little, remembering evenings spent on the couch, basking in the cathode glow. "Dr. McCoy always was your favorite character. Though I know you secretly had a crush on Kirk."
His wife of 47 years snorted slightly.
"It’s too bad Artie’s not here. He would know. Artie was good with electronics. Remember how he used to fix our TVs?" Regrettably, William’s only brother had passed ten years prior.
A tear surprised him, and hijacked his sense of humor. "I can’t wait any more, Gracie. They’ll be in soon to check on you."
William decided to err on the side of caution, and gave both wires a sharp tug. The staccato pulse that had haunted his days and nights for three months gave way to a shrill high-pitched squeal. Her sunken chest offered one final heave, then fell still.
He kissed her forehead.
"Good night, dear," William said before finishing her medicine, and joining her in sleep.
Then I wrote "Homecoming."
"Today's the day, kiddo. Daddy's coming home. Finally. It sure will be good to see him. To have dinner with him. To hold his hand again. It's been..."
In truth, Angie lost track of exactly when Tom had flown to Boston. She remembered she'd packed his summer suits. Now, the leaves on the stately maple had assumed a fiery fringe.
"… too long. That's how long it's been."
And it would be good to hear his voice. He'd call whenever he could. But the meetings often lasted well into the night, and then he'd be in the hotel reviewing papers, sifting through the corporate garbage. So most of his communication came via email, sometimes sent while sitting in the conference room he labeled the "Black Hole of Calcutta for lawyers."
But each one ended with "LuvU." That was all she needed.
"Well, even though his plane just took off, it's a long drive to the airport. We'd best get going, little one," she said, placing two loving hands on a belly that was not yet swollen, but soon would be. "I can't wait to tell him our news."
She turned off the television seconds before the headline, "Tragedy In NYC. Plane Hits WTC" could bring her world tumbling down.
Please comment on either.