It's Still Life

Dancing with Lions — Part 2

Brigid arrived home from the Six Sentence Café and Bistro in a rainstorm designed by and for fish; the gin was still amusing her, but even so it was an impressively Dickensian squall.

She went straight to the kitchen, reached for a frosted mug, dropped in two scoops of vanilla ice cream, then tilted the glass.

The root beer hissed as it met the cold, a brief chemical skirmish before rising into a thick, beige crown of foam, and she heard herself say, pffft fantasies — the froth rising just past and over the rim. A long-handled spoon slid neatly down the inside, and her heart skipped while her eyes smiled.

She tasted the crystallised foam and thought, the danger in fantasies is forgetting where all the parts came from in the first place.

After wiping the ring of froth from the worktop with a damp white cloth, she decided it was the best drink she’d had in years, and let her thoughts settle into their familiar hum as she headed for bed.

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written for Denise’s Six Sentence Stories, including the word “Fish”  Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.