The Starving Activist is the sometimes-home for words. AR Neal (that’s me) finds them, cultivates them, and leaves them here. Enjoy.

Prompts for the Promptless: Endless Possibilities

I happened to wander through a couple of posts and found Rarasaur's Season 1 Episode 2 (wished I'd found Episode 1, but better late to the party than never arriving at all, yes?). The prompt is about the 11th Possibility; my friends Guy and Elaine seem to both have found out what it means to flip that coin one more time. For them, it meant the beginning of endless possibilities:

They called him “Slim” because he wasn’t; Guy spent his evenings after work at the Denny’s around the corner, filling his loneliness with diet pop and mashed potatoes. His co-workers enjoyed coming with, offering conversation when what they took away was gossip. They rarely ate, preferring instead to order and pass their plates to Guy over small talk, especially about Elaine; the only thing Guy liked more than food was her and he was too naïve to know that Dave, Cosmo, and Winchester were not laughing with him but at him. In between bites of whatever was on the menu, Guy painted mind-pictures of Elaine that did her more justice than Mother Nature. Dave, Cosmo, and Winchester snickered and mocked him all the way to their cars, laughing to tears as they looked over their shoulders and watched him sopping up lost gravy with leftover biscuits every night. Guy was their sales side-kick, while Elaine was a typing pool lackey; she was as thin as Guy was wide and twice as homely but did her best to style-up. It was enough for Guy anyway.After the boys left, Guy often got lost in his own thoughts somewhere over the third slice of pie. He’d often sit with Elaine and have light conversations over coffee and heavy cream during their breaks at work; he wanted to increase his confidence and decrease his belt size so maybe they could share time together beyond that coveted ten minutes every other morning. He sighed, using the edge of his fork to capture the last bit of merengue. With a grunt, he was on his way into the evening.The next morning and Guy grinned at his own face in the mirror, checking for breakfast remnants before taking to the sales floor. He also checked his shoes for shine and verified his slimness—or lack thereof in the mirror; he stopped to worry at his belt, his pants rotating a bit around his midsection.The morning after that, Guy had to change his suit before leaving home; there was too much material bunched in his belt and there was no way he could make it neat enough for the floor. He found another suit in the back of the closet that he’d not touched in three years. Even with the delay he arrived at work fifteen minutes early and ran into Elaine as he turned into the break room; she was glowing and it wasn’t just his partial eyes. She’d been getting compliments from the other girls in the typing pool and Cosmo had just mentioned to Dave the other day that it looked like she’d gotten a bit more hourglass-y.The next day was Wednesday and Guy was ready to have his coffee time with Elaine. He’d gone to the men’s section of the department store after having dinner the night before to buy a new outfit; his old suits were far too large and he wanted to look good. Dave, Cosmo, and Winchester were losing interest in their nightly Denny’s time and had stopped using “Slim” as a nickname; Guy still loved his sweets and carbs, but was looking fit and trim with each passing day. It made them sick and gave them the pursed lemon-lips of the gossip-less. The clack-clack of Elaine’s new high heels broke his reverie; she too had visited the department store the night before. She wanted to get some nice shoes for today since the ones from the specialty store didn’t seem to be fitting as well lately; her bunions had receded and her arches were no longer falling. She’d noticed a swell of curves—or was it southern exposure—that hadn’t showed themselves in the silk of her dresses. She hoped against hope that Guy would notice and invite her for dinner; she knew he liked Denny’s.

Flash Fiction Chronicles: Wasted Wealth

Daily Prompt: Where My Heart Is