Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
She’s been silently enjoying her lunch. Though she’s consuming soup she blows quietly to cool it, like whispering over a sleeping child, and she eats from a breadbowl, which makes no sound as she sets her spoon upon the side. She drinks an iced tea without ice, so nothing clinks against the cup. She suppresses a sneeze. She turns pages in the newspaper like Mr. Miyagi.
It’s the first bite of her apple that makes a few of her neighbors look in her direction. The apple crunch happens during a lull in the calming cafe music. The apple crunch seems to echo. Once the picture of peace, now the woman resembles her Red Delicious. She’s so embarrassed to have caused a produce ruckus that she sets the apple down, pushes it away. She waits for the silence to return, the music to return, then she lifts the apple and tries again. She takes timid bites and somehow feels they aren’t quiet enough, as far as her nervous reactions go. She slices the apple into smaller pieces, but there’s still the chewing that must seem to her like a monster truck rally in her mouth. She gathers her things and waits to finish the apple until she heads to her car, until the engines in the parking lot let her munch without notice.