Flash 2000: Hold Me Against the Dark – Part 1: I want you beside me…

Image from the Internet Hive Mind

I tuck my graying hair behind my ear as I watch the holiday party. Come on, dive in, I tell myself. It’s why you are here. Mingle, mingle, mingle, during the jingle, jingle, jingle. Everyone looks like they are having a grand time – so much noise and people. There’s no need to wallow in the lonely looking on from the outside like a kid pressing their nose against the candy shop window. Dive in girl, you got this.

Instead, I press my back more firmly against the wall, willing my fingers to peel back from the red plastic cup to keep it from cracking. My forcibly relaxed fingers start rubbing the ridges on the cup in a widening circular pattern, then spiraling back in before starting the pattern again. Sometimes I hate being an introvert.

I close my eyes against the colors and sounds invading my senses. Behind my lids red throbs with the music. I reach out feeling all the people, a mass of happy and sad, excitement and exhaustion. Some are here for duty and some to avoid it. I know everyone but I’ve been careful to keep them from knowing me. None of these people are really my people. I am just an imposter, an extra hand when needed.

The part of me that wants people, well, not people, but a person, a someone, my someone, reaches out, out, yearning. As far as it can stretch it’s leash secured within an empty hole within, an emptiness hungering to be filled with someone else’s laughter and affection while I provide them the same comforts.

Holiday season is rough when you’re single. You think after forty-five years on this planet I would be used to it.

I almost cry from the ache.

Among the white energies out there past my closed lids could be my someone. I smile at the thought, then frown at the false hope. At my age, it is a dream. But… maybe… there could be someone beyond the party, in the city lights twinkling above the snow-topped buildings on the other side of the parking lot visible through the windows.

Stop lying to yourself. I chastise myself in annoyance. You are old, single, and alone. Not everyone gets a happily ever after and that is fine. Be happy for the rest of your family. You got cousins and nieces and nephews and friends. Well, no friends local, but friends. Get it together. Today isn’t going to be any different than the other hundred thousand times you wanted … to be wanted. I try to pull my yearning to heel so I can get on with why I dragged myself to this corporate function.

My fingers tap the mostly full punch cup once, twice, thrice. I feel the liquid moves back and forth in the cup, the vibrations of the music impacting the fluid’s movement

The want slips its leash, rushing out seeking, calling. Demanding.

Finding.

Found.

Oh no. My eyes blink open. I didn’t mean…

And the universe snaps into place. My drink sloshes as I rebalance. “Oh, f–.” I cut off the curse, a small amount of liquid spilling on the floor just in front of his heavy leather boots. He had been circling the room. “I’m sorry.”

He looks down my way in surprise. At five nine and nearly two hundred pounds, I’m not used to men overlooking me. I’m a big girl. But he had been concentrating on the crowd, clearly searching for someone. “My fault entirely.” A confused crinkle between his eyebrows makes my heart flip.

Don’t do this, I order the wayward muscle. It isn’t fair. “Not exactly.” I smile, as I scramble to come up with an excuse to offer of why something is my fault. “I’ve been hiding.”

“Someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t be hiding.” He turns sideways to the wall so he can look at me and continue to glance on and off at the crowd. He raises a hand over my head, to lean against the taupe-colored surface but doesn’t crowd.

I laugh at the flirt. I just climbed passed the five-oh birthday before Thanksgiving, but he was maybe a decade younger by my guess and I look on the young side, the gray hair only a recent addition. “Thanks. I just wasn’t….” I sigh, “I’m just feeling lonely.”

“In this crowd?” His shadow, cast by all the lights of the party beyond him, seems to take up more space, making our little corner of the room darker. Private.

“I’m just in the lonely in a crowd mood.” I shake my head, “No, that is wrong. I’m in a lonely for one person mood, I just don’t know who that person is.”

“Maybe it’s me? Jonathan. Jonathan.” He paused to lick his lips. “Bently. Jonathan Bently.”

“Pam. Pam Black.” I tap my name tag proclaiming me from FirstResources. “So which company are you with?” I ask since I didn’t recognize Jonathan and he was missing his badge, like about half the people here. The research triangle center held fifteen companies, a mix of startups, entrepreneur investments, and recently stock-oped steadies, which pool resources for their annual winter holiday and four-of-July parties. They do so much stealing of employees and trading of resources back and forth, on some levels the group is a big incestuous corporate family.

“Oh, um, BlasterBriefs.”

Taking a sip of my punch, I watch his ice blue eyes parse the crowd, though they kept stealing back to me. “The AI firm to create lawyer forms. A good group. Picked up a lot of new people in the last month after Doc Peterson purchased his options.”

“Yeah, I just got onboarded.” He smiled down at me.

No you didn’t. I thought rather loudly, but fortunately he wasn’t a telepath, not many supers were and of course normals not at all. I wasn’t a telepath either, but I could fake it in a pinch. Now he had me curious.

I closed my eyes a second, still close enough to the half-mediative state I had been in to do a quick check. Damn was he a bright one, at least a five on the hero scale, and also very dark. Possible villain and hero at the same time? I didn’t have time to do a full scan and it would be noticeable, and noticeable by people of his power level equal not good things to us lesser beings.

I open my eyes, then drink my fill of him and my punch. The super stood north of six foot enough he would need to bend down just a little to put his head on top of my head. His broad shoulders and muscular arms balanced a middle-age belly tucked behind his buttoned business jacket.

Super powers had only existed since COVID. Some people blamed the disease and others the vaccine, but best guess from the scientific community, including research by DNA and RNA Systems Development and Management within our own little triangle, is the super powers and the COVID impacts are unrelated by everything except emerging at the same time in an uneasy co-existence. Like Martin Luther King Jr and Anne Franks overlapping in time, if not space.

Most of those impacted still had bodies which had lived a lifetime. Hence my gray hair and his belly. The super gene or whatever it was, did slowly adjust the body toward idealization, the more power you are, the quicker it happens. The two strongest on the planet, Hero-man and Ing-shui, had instantly changed on December 11, 2020. I had dropped nearly fifty pounds in the last four years, finally able to successfully lose weight through diet and exercise after years of trying.

The man in front of me likely had put on some height and picked up those wonderful arms. Black hair swished on top with just the beginnings of hair loss either side of his temple, barely tamed curls hiding the fact from most observers. Or was it the hair growing back? I threw out my previous estimate of his age. With supers you never knew, other than they were never children. Whatever we were didn’t kick in until after age twenty-five. A close-cut beard and trimmed mustache accent his checkbones, but it’s his voice that makes my legs tremble. I do love a low baritone and his is like hot fudge melting ice cream.

Should I? And I answer myself, Why not? It’s already too late. Stupid powers. I corrected myself and sent an internal thank you to whatever it was in my center. Most supers powers were under control after Emergence; mine seemed to have its own agenda and agency. Best not to anger it or abuse it.

I tuck my empty red plastic cup into some fake plant leaves beside me, I place my hand on his arm. “Would you like to dance?”

I feel his arm tense under my hand. He wasn’t used to people touching him. I step closer, away from the wall, causing him to stand up straight. His shadow moved differently from mine in a way inexplicable, even taking into account the disco-ball made from a plastic dinosaur covered in mirrored tiles shooting sparkles around the room.

Gotcha. I identified the super. He was one of the hero team assigned to our region. Cage had shadow powers along with enhanced strength, speed, and minor flight. Single according to publicity, openly trans – well, that could be awkward – I’ll need to figure out how I felt about that, about middle-tier in strength, like I already observed. I couldn’t remember his age, but a quick google search will fix that. Older, but not a huge age reversal I think.

And me an unknown and unregistered and wanting to stay that way.

He wasn’t here for me, based on that head swivel. In fact, he tried to bow out now. “I really, don’t know how to…”

I interrupted his excuse as the DJ announced a new song from Grasp Starlight. “They are starting a slow dance, it should be fine.”

His shadow grabbed his shoulder and merged into him, causing him to take a stutter-step. No one normal would notice, but I had used my powers to fix my eyes freeing myself from a lifetime of glasses so they picked up things others couldn’t. He stopped struggling once they were one. In fact, once we hit the dance floor, he put his arms around me without prompting as the lead singer for Grasp crooned over the speakers. “I want you beside me, but only when you aren’t there.”

I leaned into Jonathan, if that was his name, humming along with Be Mine For Never.

I closed my eyes as I rested against his chest. Surprise, his aura was non-existent, like Cage Hero Light and the shadow Villain Dark, canceled each other. Well, that would get him past a lot of sensor meant to pick up supers. Speaking of which, Doc Peterson’s Villain Dark aura had double in glow last week and was about forty feet toward the food tables. “By the way congratulations on being a new hire.” I whisper against his arm.

“What? Oh, thank you. I’ve been job hunting for a while.” His shoulder moved under my head as he shrugged. “The market has been crazy.”

“I understand. I mean look at me working for the temp agency for Better Ideas Corporate Triangle.” I smile into his chest, opening my eyes as the song wound down. “I just float from company to company here helping out as they have need. They all know me but no one will hire me.”

“Oh, that sounds like that sucks.” He frowned down as we walked off the stage.

“It does and it doesn’t.” I keep a hand on him guiding him toward the food. “I get to work everywhere, like for the past month I worked for the company that handles the security around here, helping with the background checks for everyone getting hired.” I squeezed his arm when he tensed. “Over my shoulder, in the red blazer with green Christmas tie.”

Jonathan stared at me, then his blue eyes turned black as they glanced over my shoulder. His nose flared before he refocused on my eyes. “I want your number.”

I turned left arm toward me and pushed up his sleeve a little. Against his skin, I drew a symbol with my finger slowly, dark shadow followed my finger a moment behind. I looked up sideways and winked once I finished the shape. “Hold your cell with this hand, and say ‘call Vector’.”

“Is Pam your name?” he whispered just loud enough over the crowd for me to hear.

“Is Jonathan yours, Cage?” I replied. His wrist jerked in my hand when I gave his hero name.

“No.”

“Then forget mine please, just to be fair, okay?”

“Vector?”

“I got a large extended family and don’t need people like,” I pause, tilting my head as I release his wrist, his eyes flick over my shoulder at my pause indicating he understood, “well, you know how people are. Call me tonight after? I want to know you are safe.”

(words 2,197; first published 1/9/2024)

Hold Me Against the Dark series

  1. I want you beside me… (12/31/2023)
  2. Someone who cares if you come home (3/31/2024)
  3. F is for First and Foremost (4/7/2024)

Spin-offs

  1. Bridesmaid (6/30/2024)

Writing Exercise: 50-Word Prompts 2023

WRITING EXERCISE

Time for the December 50-word prompts writing exercise.

Quick reminder of the rules: Write a flash for each picture. Aim for 50 words, give or take five extra words. Don’t read my attempts until after you do your own. Writing them directly in the comment section below will help you focus on the flash aspect – just getting words out.

VISUAL PROMPTS FOR 50-WORD FLASHES

 

       

(Light in winter trees & Couple photos are from freedigital photos . net)

(African girl with Teddy – ID 9775075 © Lucian Coman Dreamstime.com (license paid for))

My Attempts

First Light: It was too early for dawn, the light too bright, coming from the wrong direction. The trees huddled under the snow blanketing their boughs. What was happening sent a chill down to their roots. Should I leave my shelter to find out what the light was or run? (48 words, first published 12/26/2023)

May I have your attention: Grabbing his tie, she pulled him closer and their lips met, touched for the first time. He gasped in surprise and she took advantage of his open lips, jumping for the taste she always wanted. Coffee and cream. Sugar and hazelnut. Around them, people clapped. Maybe she shouldn’t have done this by the office coffee pot but the boy just wasn’t getting any of her hints. (words 66, first published 12/26/2023)

Orders: Please don’t hurt me, her eyes begged, digging a hole straight to my heart. Her parents had done right by the little one – freshly washed, her hair neatly braided, her clothes in good repair. Her bear nearly broke me. Why was she allowed to bring her toy? Fucking orders. (words 50, first published 12/26/2023)

Series: 50-word Prompts

    1. Prompts 1& 5 (2/19/2017)
    2. Prompts 6 & 12 (2/26/2017)
    3. Prompts 7, 8, 10, 11 (3/19/2017)
    4. Prompts (The Mouse Roars) (3/26/2017)
    5. 50-word prompts 2018 (12/25/2018)
    6. 50-word prompts 2019 (8/27/2019)
    7. 50-word prompts 2020 (12/22/2020)
    8. 50-word prompts 2021 (12/28/2021)
    9. 50-word prompts 2022 (12/17/2022)
    10. 50-word prompts 2023 (12/26/2023)
    11. 50-word prompts 2024 (12/24/2024)
    12. 50-word prompts 2025 (12/25/2025)

 

Flash: When the Stars Align

Image from freedigitalphotos.net

“Second moon rising.” Leo glances over at me.

“I see it,” I grunt as I continue to mess with the wires.

“You sure about this?” Taurus asks from where he leans against a bula-bula tree.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” I mutter. “When do you ever leave the house if you aren’t sure about it?”

He laughs. “But are you sure, Virga?”

“By the stars, of course I am sure.” I press the last of the wires into place then snap the soldering stick and shake it to heat the tip.

“Our little Virga is always sure, you know that Taurus.”

“So help me, I will solder you mouth shut Leo if you call me little one more time.”

“Little girl, little life, little soft lips.”

“Little patience.” The tip of the stick turns blue, so I tap my glasses, activating the safety feature and they mold to my face.

“Big boobs.” I see Taurus gesture like I have mammillarias the size of a cow, big enough to weigh down his huge hands. Leo makes some gesture back that sets Taurus laughing again.

Gemini arrives with Sagittarius and the first question out of her mouth is, “Did I miss anything?” Her fear of missing out was high.

“Is the city still lit?” Leo waves at the sprawling slums rising into rundown tenant shacks to somewhat sturdy worker class apartments, and finally the soaring sparkling towers of the ultrarich, the few middle-class dwellings hidden under their glare.

“Of course it is,” Gemini walks over to beside Leo at the edge of the cliff, while Sagittarius sits down beside me. “Damn, this is beautiful. Are we sure about this?”

“What is it with everyone?” I ask, setting the spent stick on the purple grass. “Look, if you want to back out now, this is the last moment.” We hadn’t made the kick-off box until now to prevent the damn Pisces psychics from seeing anything. With the soldering done, all the links were clicking in place.

Sagittarius places his hand behind my neck and massages my tight muscles. “We aren’t backing out now. We’ve tried everything else. ‘A riot is the language of the unheard.’ – Martin Luther King Jr.”

“It’s not exactly a riot, Sag.” Taurus argued. “We are turning off the electric to four million people.”

“’A populous never rebels from passion for attack, but from impatience of suffering.’ – Edmund Burke.” Our resident archer moves behind my back and starts massaging me in earnest. “We are only applying a little suffering. It’s fall – not too cold, not too hot. But maybe we will wake the sheep.”

“Careful,” I say, “I hurt my left shoulder earlier, don’t rub too hard.”

“Well, I’m tired of waiting. You all may be of two minds about this,” Leo strides over to where I sat. “Give it here and I will set it off.”

I happily pass him up the activator, taking a little enjoyment at watching the pompous ass juggle the hot object. After pulling his cardigan over his hand, he turns it over in his hand and nods. Returning to his previous position overlooking Skyfall, he announces, “Now they must hear us.” He snaps the switches close, completing the circuit.

After a few moments, with the skyline lights remaining unchanged, he turns the switches to their previous positions carefully then snaps the again. The rapidly switches them back and forth between what he obviously thought were the on and off positions. “Nothing’s happening!” he yells before yeeting the device over the cliff.

I’m not even mad.

I lean against Sagittarius and just say, “Wait for it.”

“Everything is in the right place.” Taurus reaffirms behind us.

Seconds later, a quarter of the Needle, the skyscraper belonging to the Greens, the FirstLanders family owning the terraforming machines who are inching the creation of agricultural land to maximize food prices without anyone *important* starving, flicks off. The west side slums follow. The Crown Cathedrals, owned by the Christians – purveyors of news, entertaining, and publishing, darken one after the other with their surrounding tenant slums. Only the Avery Tower is left of the ones we could figure out on the electric grid how to access.

The lights turn off from the bottom to the top, one floor at a time, with matching rays shooting out of blackness running through the poor sections as though reaching for the full moon opposite us. There will be no banking tomorrow until that gets sorted out. To the East side, the Vella Conglomerate remain shining. Of course the family running the government and governmental services made sure their stations were updated as soon as the rebels in Home-at-Last showed the weakness in the utility structure, but they didn’t bother spending the money they collected in taxes to protect anyone else.

That is going to come back to bite them if the Christian press agents interpret the clues we left for them to find correctly. Some FirstLander infighting will only help the cause.

“We did it.” Leo says.

“Of course we did.” I snap. “Have a little faith.”

Sagittarius stands, “Now we go. I shall miss you. ‘We all take different paths in life, but no matter where we go, we take a little of each other everywhere.’ – Tim McGraw.” He holds out a hand to help me up, which I need after being huddled over the switch since the first moonrise.

After shaking out my legs, I say. “I shall miss you too Sag, Bull.” I nod to each. “Gem.” I grab her in a huge hug.

“Virga.” She holds me tight in return.

“Hey, what about me?” Leo opens his arms wide.

I walk away to where I left my backpack giving him the finger behind me.

After the last year, I’m ready to go back to being just Elisa, electrical student at the Vella Training Grounds where Sagittarius had recruited me for his rebellion cell.

Being Elisa again would be nice. At least until those in power figure it out. Best guess, I might live to see tomorrow’s nightfall. If they find Leo first, we won’t last until dawn.

Behind me, I hear motors start for the richer members of our group. Taurus will be going back to wherever he came from on foot. Like me, he was recruited for just this mission. I slide on my backpack and turn around to stare at the half-lit cityscape. Fires brightened some of the darker areas as the riots start.

I did that. Me and Taurus really. We had the know-how they needed.

Now we are on our own again and their super-secret cell will hide among the rich and wealthy.

I shall miss Virga and all the excitement she brought to my life for the last year.

But I shall miss Elisa more. The me from birth.

I drop my IDs on the ground with the two of the trackers the elite put into workers, one for me and one for Taurus. He dug out mine and I dug out his before the bigwigs got here.

“This is the last moment.” I tell myself, looking at the pile. Am I really going to do this?

I pour acid over the batch. “Rest in peace Elisa.” I drop the plastic container that held the acid onto the pile then pull out my two backup solder sticks. Cracking them, I drop them onto the flammable acid and walk away quickly from the cliff and from my life in Skyfall.

(words 1,246; first published 12/24/2023)

When the Stars Align series

  1. When the Stars Align (12/24/2023)
  2. Against the Sky (1/7/2024)

Flash: Oghan’s Return

Image by Lance Reis on Unsplash

The woman approached Mave confidently, a raptor on her glove. Around the high-flyer gathered many of the younger members of the aerie, tired one and all from a day on the ground in the fields; the group rested, taking advantage of the large boulders removed from the farming soil and laid alongside the workable plots. Several peach trees among the rocks provided covering from Brita for those who wanted shade after a long day of summer work, while the rest soaked up her warm rays laying upon the boulders.

Though outnumbered, the pale female, unmarked on chest by hint of feathers which decorated the raptor shifters’ arms and bodies, carried no scent of fear.

She carried barely any scent at all, only of the sea after a storm. Salt, water, ozone, and death recently raised from the depths. “Oghan said you were the one to talk to.”

“Oghan?” Mave sat forward from where she had been leaning against her nestmate, Bryce, to study the raptor. “You came back.” The stone wizard had disappeared at the Aviary Gathering, a loss to their clan. His return was most welcome but would no doubt come with costs. Magic never flew a straight path.

Bryce spread his hand against Mave’s back, like a wing of support.

“What do you need to discuss, traveler?”

“I would like to join the aerie.”

(words 226; first published 12/17/2023 – inspired by a Facebook visual prompt for a writer’s group; aim is about 50 words, but I decided to link it to the Raptor by the Sea series.)

Raptors by the Sea Series

  1. Raptors by the Sea (9/10/2023)
  2. Outside the Aerie (11/19/2023)
  3. Oghan’s Return (12/17/2023)

Flash: What are they really trying to sell?

Image from freedigitalphotos.net

“Telly off.”

“Hey, I was watching that.” Karter complained to his mother.

She picked up two dishes, then stacked a third between them, showing off her skills as a human waitress. “And I told you, no screen time until your studies are done for the day.”

“I got it done, mostly. And what I didn’t finish isn’t important.” He flopped over on the floor to look up at her. “Consumer awareness is complete yesteryear.”

His mom’s eyes twitched, and her lips formed a flat line. “Fine, then tell me why that commercial, selling a car I couldn’t afford on two years hustling tables, and certainly not something you can buy at your age, showed up in your feed?”

“Um … because it is cool?” Sitting up, the fourteen-year-old looked around the room for clues. “Maybe related to a new three-dee-show?”

“That is a start. The HyundaiHondaHover is used a lot in Fifteen Rings over Cylan, but reverse the logic.” The adult lifted the plates. “I’m drop these into the cube and set dinner heating, but I expect a better answer by the time I get back or you will be on screen blackout tomorrow.”

“Aw mom, no, tomorrow is MechBattle.”

“Karter, this is important to me, and I believe it will be important to you in the future. Use that implant and gray matter to come up with something.” She stopped in the threshold and looked back. “I’m not being unreasonable. I know that is what you are thinking. But remember, I’m your mom. I’m always on your side even when it doesn’t feel like it. The sellers, with those commercials and ads, are not. Know who is your opposition and who is your support system.”

He rolled his eyes but activated the EdYou screen.

***

Karter made his way to the kitchen after the dinner ding came through. He discovered the reason why his mom hadn’t came back immediately was she had been folding laundry. Tucking his head down, he sat at the table. That folding and delivery chore should have been completed by him two days ago.

The near-beef stew with a side of real bread from her work smelled delicious. Automatically he reached for her hand across the small table.

“We remember to be grateful in the small things for they build the best parts of our lives. We remember to be grateful in the small acts for they build the best friendships of our lives. We remember to be grateful for the small ideas for they build the best principles of our lives. Confirm.”

“Confirm.” Karter solemnly closed the grace. Dropping his mom’s hand, he dug into his fourth calorie allotment of the day.

She let him eat about half before asking, “Do you have the report ready?”

“Hm, maybe. Obviously if it is an officially registered commercial, they are either advertising, selling a product or service, or marketing, selling a concept or reputation. Since we aren’t in the position to buy, under proper targeting for advertising, I shouldn’t have seen the flying car commercial.” He tore two more pieces of bread off his slice and dropped them into the soup and stirred it. “So the question is, what are they marketing?”

“And you had speculated maybe a movie or telly show.”

“But that isn’t right, because product placement would be doing the reverse, unless it is selling nostalgia like using old cars in shows.” He scrunched his nose. “Since the HyundaiHondaHover is a newer line, only two years old according to the implant download, and they are pushing next month’s model, the new show is selling the car, not the car selling the show. Like you said, reverse the logic.”

“You do listen to me sometimes. Good to know.” His mom smirk turned into a smile. “I appreciate your thinking so far. But you haven’t answered why are they dropping a commercial for a private car into the feed of a family only able to afford public transportation, and not even the special services like individual taxi and flame jumps, only the mass transport.”

“Well, if it isn’t advertising, it has to be marketing.” Karter used the last of his bread to empty the bowl, then jammed it in his mouth before he continued talking. “I don’t think it is the concept. We are aware of the flying cars using the flame streams to triple their speed. I’m sure they want to drop that in every now and again, so if we ever get insta-rich, we want to pick up one immediately. But the HyundaiHondaHover ads came on three times today, and there were another couple for the MercedesCadallicWind. I could see one or two every few days, but five in one day is a lot to aim at someone my age.”

“Just how long were you on screen today?”

“Um, do you want me to answer that or finish the report?” Karter asked hopefully.

His mom pinched the bridge of her nose. “Finish the report.”

“Since it isn’t a concept, it has to be reputation.” He pushed his bowl to the center of the table frowning. “They want us to WANT flying cars even when we can’t afford them. They want us to desire things beyond our ability, to make them more valuable to people who can afford them because other people can’t. Make some people feel better when other people are hungering after the idea they have access to, the small ideas. But this twists the small ideas, corrupting people’s principles with envy, instead of the pillars of support, growth, and beauty.” Karter looked at his mom. “That is some premium grade therapy-need.”

“Yes, and they also take it further.” His mother stacked her bowl into his and stood up from the table, moving the dishes over to the washer cube for loading. “They will sell you models of the cars, clothing with the design, and posters for the walls, all to keep you aware of what you want but can’t have, and have you pay for the privilege because they own the idea and image. But, you know, Consumer Awareness is a boring, unimportant subject. It’s okay to blow it off and support the mega-corps products.”

“Mom, I haven’t been dipping on the psychology classes; reverse-pysch is complete yesteryear.”

“I accept correction.” Having finished loading and activating the washing cube, his mom leaned against the counter. “But I do have one last inquiry before you put away the laundry.”

Karter rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Are you going to continue to dip on the Consumer Awareness?”

“Do you think that they will continue to hit me up to ride the envy flame?”

“They hit you five times today.” She shook her head in annoyance. “No screen time tomorrow until ALL your studies are done. But, let me tell you as someone with a few more years living the marketing stream, they hope you don’t bother with your studies, and if you do, they hope that they can wear you down with a constant stream. They want you to want a flying car really badly. And other stuff like it.”

Karter glanced around their small eating room before he said, “I would like a flying car.”

“So would I.”

(words 1,206; first published 12/10/2023)