Flash Fiction: Fanciful (262 words)

“So…” Sara put her hands in her pockets and turned idly toward Chelsea. “What do you think?”

Chelsea blinked once, and glanced down the street in either direction from the corner. The sun was doing a pleasant job of warming the fall air, though it was stark in the bare sky, and both of them squinted every time they came out of the shadows. The hotels and shops towered above them on either side of the street, as fanciful and exuberant as described in the brochures, but cheesy and exaggerated under the warm light of day. There was an old soda cup crushed in the gutter, with the lid hanging on by the straw, the same as they might find at home. What people there were, strode down the street, heads canted down in their own thoughts, no differently than if they were on their way to work or the grocery store or the laundromat.

In all fairness, that was probably where they were headed.

Chelsea watched them and tilted her head to one side. “Honestly?” she asked

Sara shrugged.

Looking around for the last time, she seemed more hesitant by the moment, and she shrugged too, rather than voice an answer too soon. Apologetically, she looked back at Sara. “I think the book was better.”

Sara paused before understanding seemed to catch up to her, and then she slowly began to laugh. She draped an arm around Chelsea’s shoulder and guided her farther along the street. “That’s fair,” she said. “But let’s see if we can find something in reality’s favor.”



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