A lonely waffle, flaunting itself to everybody who walks through the café like a cheap whore, hoping someone will consider it worthwhile to pick it up and take a bit of it, savour it and maybe want more.

She hated Valentine’s day, hated the memory that it had been a different guy every year.

“I’ll take the waffle,” she said, waiting for her next blind date, “Let’s not leave it alone long enough to get soggy and bitter.”


Written for Sonya’s Three Line Tales, based on photo by Roman Kraft


14 thoughts on “Waiting

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