Familiarity

“Is this how relationships end?” she probed, looking around the familiar shabby café.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Here we are, sitting in a local café drinking free coke in disposable glasses. We’ve become so familiar with one another that we’ve stopped putting any effort into the relationship.”
What she didn’t say was that after three years of dating she had assumed he would remember her birthday. She expected cards, chocolates, fine dining and fireworks. Not drinks at the café owned by his family.
“Familiarity is comfort that comes when two people understand each another. Plus I thought you love nana’s quiche.”

She wanted to shake him up, pour the coke down his new shirt and storm out, but he was right. She loved nana’s cooking.
Storming out deferred.

Cynically she snapped open the fortune cookie on their table expecting yet another platitude. Something shiny popped out with a cling. A ring!

A RING!

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

Behind the counter she spotted nana quivering in excitement.

 

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In Response to: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, 112th challenge
Photo by Dawn M. Miller