Banquets at San Simeon
Character – tour guide at San Simeon- Setting – backseat
- Object – wind sock
- Situation – lost love
Banquets at San Simeon aren’t generally part of the tour, but inevitably two or three groups come through the hall while it’s being set up. The visitors gawk at the linen-draped tables and mounds of meat, fruit, and pastries.
Today there’s an ice sculpture, which in and of itself isn’t terribly notable. However the sight of it stops Muriel so abruptly that three gawking tourists bump into her. The sculpture freezes Muriel as it melts, dripping on a pyramid of oranges.
It’s her own nude form, reclining on a bench. She knows it’s her the same way she knows the bench is not a settee but the backseat of a ’74 Impala. The artist’s style is unmistakable.
Ernst has been here. Might be here still. Muriel abandons her group, not caring if they become lost and must remain at San Simeon forever. She dashes to the veranda overlooking the helipad. The wind sock morosely turns, north, to northeast, and back, as if wordlessly saying, “too late.”
Wow! Nicely done. Touching.
Thank you. I love the way microfiction lets me imply so much in so few words.