Winner, second place, Pennwriter’s Conference 2014 flash fiction contest.
My grandfather hovers in front of the barbecue behind his house in suburban Hicksville, New York, all hedges and shingled ranch houses scrunched together under repetitive, waving maple trees. By the year 1960, he is finally able to afford a steak once and a while to enjoy with his family. As he glances from behind the shadow of the carport, a salesman roams door-to-door through the neighborhood, doing his spiel on each porch. At dinner time.
The guy gets closer. Grandpa walks around back to grandma and hands her the metal spatula …
NOTE: THE REMAINDER OF THIS CONTENT HAS BEEN TRANSFERRED TO MY SHORT STORY SERIES:
© Suzanne Grieco Mattaboni