Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Going Flat

Lately, my life is like a Coke going flat. It's all fizz and fuss and excitement at first. You watch carefully, protectively, anxious not to spill any over the edge. That first sip: bliss, contentment, that cliche Coca-Cola commercial "Ahh!" Then, slowly, you forget about it; it's too sweet, too cold...too flat. It's all fun until the bubbles run out.

Well, that's me. 85 and out of bubbles. Too tired to put my face on in the morning and too old for anyone to care if I did. When you're young and fresh and lovely, someone always notices. 16 is like popping the tab on that Coke can. What a beautiful, crisp sound. Ever watched someone open a can of soda? Do it sometime. Listen for that pop, and don't look at the person with the can. Look at everyone else; I guarantee at least half the room notices.

Oh, when I was 16, I could turn heads like that. I was really something, not the thinnest or the prettiest or the smartest necessarily, but I was no wallflower that's for sure. If I went out, I was in the middle of the room; if I came to a party, no one forgot I was there. Used to think a break would've been kinda nice....give my feet a break from those silly shoes. Now, I'm worse than a wallflower, not even a decoration on the sidelines of the party. No, I'm tucked away in this "sweet, little nursery" my daughter shells out two grand a month for, like a forgotten pop, slowly releasing what's left of its carbonation.

You know what people do with flat Coke? They throw it out.

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