Here is the final instalment of my successful night of writing in the 642 Things to Write About book by the San Francisco Writer’s Grotto.
I had passed this particular prompt on many occasions when flipping through this book, and it was last night when an image just popped into my head and I decided to create it. It is supposed to be a short story, and maybe some people will argue that what I have written is a short story, but to me however, I think it is more of a “meet-cute.”
Prompt 3: Write a short story that is set in Detroit in 1956, in which a car floor mat plays a crucial role.
The large, canary yellow taxi that smelled oddly of pickled eggs, rolled to a stop in front of her hotel.
“Thank you sir,” Esther said kindly as she handed the driver some money. He grunted in reply, and got out of the taxi to open the door for her. She bundled her skirts together, grabbed her purse and made to get gracefully out of the strange smelling car. Unfortunately for Esther, her feet had other plans, and she tripped on the car floor mat behind the passenger seat and flew out onto the pavement with a glorious thud.
“Are you okay Miss?” Esther rubbed her poor nose as she looked up as the hand that was held outstretched for her.
“Why yes, I’m fine, thank you,” she replied gratefully as she took the hand. The grip was warm and firm, and she was hauled up onto her traitorous feet in no time. She patted herself down and then looked up into a pair of dazzling, emerald eyes.
“Thank you again sir, you are most kind,” Esther said as the boorish taxi driver thumped her travel case down beside her and drove off.
“You are most welcome. Say, you’re not from the States are you? What brings you to Detroit?” the tall, kind, handsome gentleman with the green eyes asked. Esther felt her heart leap; this was the first real conversation she was having since her arrival.
“Oh no, I’m from Northern Ireland, Londonderry to be exact. During the War, I was a burse at the barracks, and the stories the GI’s would tell me of the US had me desperate to go. Why Detroit? Well it sounds a lot different to New York, Los Angeles or Chicago,” she explained a little too breathily. The man smiled warmly at her, his eyes twinkling in the light.
“Well that sounds like a great adventure! This is forward of me but would you care for a drink Miss?”
“Esther, my name is Esther, and I would love one umm…?”
“Charlie, the name’s Charlie,” he said as he shook her hand and picked up her travel case.