He'd walked to the mall to get his shoes repaired and—big mistake—found himself adrift in bargain-hungry crowds, unknown people gawking in windows at leather goods, fancy teapots, gigantic stuffed toys, various lotions and potions. And what the hell was a tennis bracelet? Something glittery and gaudy, REDUCED TO FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS!!! He managed to push his way through the host of frenetic shoppers and went in search of a cafe, took a seat. He tried not to look at people shoveling in meat pies and guzzling fizzy drinks. Slumped in their chairs as if marooned. Maybe they'd like to dwell in this purgatorial murk forever, protected from the blistering sun and the furious winter's rages.

 

What might Leah have said, if she were sitting here right now?

Lighten up, Jimmy. You're not stuck in Dante's Inferno.

 

She would have been sixty-five if she'd been sitting here right now. Last Christmas, he'd given her an ironing board, and for just the smallest flash of time, she'd looked as if she might cry. But then she'd thrown back her head and laughed, said she'd married him for better or worse, and when her coffin slid away, he could think of nothing else but the bright pink flowers on the cover of the ironing board.

 

 

Susan Midalia is the author of three short story collections, all shortlisted for major Australian literary awards; two novels; and a collection of short short fiction, Miniatures, published by Night Parrot Press (2022). She is the director of the Australian Short Story Festival, now in its eight successful year.

 

 

© Susan Midalia

 

Published in Once: A selection of short short stories by Night Parrot Press (2020)

 

www.nightparrotpress.com