“A cheeseburger with fries and a lemonade, please,” I said. I passed the pounds over the counter and waited. Once everyone had their food, we picnicked in the shade of an old tree.
I ate only to appear to be eating. I wanted a taste of home, but I didn’t get a taste of home. I got something altogether not American, and the fact that I was surprised pegged me American even more than my white socks, accent notwithstanding.
It was then the trip turned. It was no longer about finding commonality, but the exceptional.
I returned a year later.
100 words. Feedback appreciated.
True story. It happened in England, specifically Stratford-upon-Avon. The cheese on the burger was a couple of strands of shredded cheese, the fries were chips because chips are fries, and the lemonade was Sprite, but after my failed lunch I went to a Royal Shakespeare Company intermission-free performance of Macbeth and then met back up with my group at Shakespeare’s grave, so life did not suck.
What story comes to mind when you see that picture? Join in! Friday Fictioneers is a weekly blog link-up based on a photo prompt. The Challenge – write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle, and end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.) The Key – make every word count.
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