“I’ll take it,” she announced, walking on with a nonchalance that belied the fact that she was about to spend almost the GDP of a small country.

She did not understand art. She did not really care. All she knew was that this was the place to buy, and anything that had such an outrageous tag on it would make for great conversation.

That particular piece was going in his study. Being a man of simple minimalistic taste he would hate it. But she didn’t care. He would simply shut up and endure. He always did.

According to her psychologist she was pushing him to a breaking point because subconsciously she felt unworthy of him. Whatever. It wasn’t as if that woman came cheap either.

“I’m sorry madam,” interrupted the cashier, “it appears that all your cards have been cancelled.”


In response to the 130th challenge of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers based on a photo by Jade M Wong.

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18 thoughts on “The shop at Columbus Circle

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