Senses

She had been working here for the last ten years, and resented the maintenance effort. Keeping the linen sparkly white and starched took a lot of effort. The crockery used was either white or transparent.

Ron was particular that only the food and companions should leave an impression on the senses. Everything else had to merge in the background.

She believed in it, as she heard his voice or saw his shadow floating by, three years after his demise. It had never been easy to work with a man who had lost his sight, but knew aroma, touch and taste.

(100 words)

 

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner

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