A Seat at the Table

Image by Annie Spratt, Sonya's three line tales week fifty, flash fiction / microfiction prompt
Photo by Annie Spratt

Not for the first time, I approached the table that had been set for eleven, my mother’s best plates out for the occasion and a sense of abundance and joie de vivre conjoured on the surface by a decadent floral burst and fruit too waxy to tempt a bite. I stood at the head of the table, guests paused in a still life for my perusal, waiting for their cue. I noted they were all there- my three brothers, mother, father; their faces, clothes, expressions and mannerisms reflected by their mirrored selves across the table; my role as hostess was to select the ‘right’ version of each family member to take a seat, at which point I’d wake to the clammy anxiety of the pre-emptive consequence of getting it wrong, leaving the cold bone china plates empty, my appetite suppressed.


Inspired by Sonya’s 3 Line Tales, Week Fifty.

16 thoughts on “A Seat at the Table

  1. I like this. Regret hangs heavy in the air, somehow to me, it seems as if the flowers in some of the vases look as if they have already wilted and yet there is a grace and a sense of hope lingering in the air. The room is both inviting and uninviting at the same time. Why was the table set for 11 when there were only 6 of you?
    Tell them they got the date wrong, and call up your favourite people to come for dinner and then simply enjoy yourself and your new-found ability to problem solve.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I think it’s fine for the reader to interpret in any way, but I haven’t imagined other possible reasons for the number of plates v. Number people in the family so I told you my intended reason…you’re free to make up your own- you’re not silly in doing so!

        Liked by 1 person

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