The Cup Runneth Over, the latest trendy art restaurant, had been open for two months. The wait to book a table was three months.
Harold fought through the protesters. Their cries about the misuse of the scriptures for commercial gain had provided further publicity. Business was booming.
He was shown to his table where Cleo was waiting.
The abstract sculpturist was the only one of Harold’s clients successful enough to get a table in a place like this.
‘I ordered while waiting,’ she said, behind sunglasses.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Harold mumbled in the dim light.
A waiter arrived with drinks. Cleo’s champagne fizzed over the side of her glass. Harold’s café au lait overflowed.
The food followed. Two plates of Kobe beef in a garden pea purée that dripped onto the table.
Cleo sighed in ecstasy. ‘Isn’t it marvellous? The statement about the rich overabundance in a world devoured by poverty.’ She crammed succulent meat into her mouth.
Harold burned his fingers as he tried to pick up his spilt coffee. ‘They could be more helpful by just serving smaller portions.’
Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story in around 150 words, based on the weekly photo prompt. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.
To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.