Flash Fiction Monday: Cutting Corners

cutting corners



The Catfish directors pounded on the screen door.  The right corner of the screen flapped like a wire mesh shade, playing peek-a-boo with the truth hidden inside.  Carlos rocked side to side on the heels of his feet.  He removed his hat and scratched the back of his head furiously.  He kept pulling up the fake FB profile on his smartphone.

Everytime Carlos saw her bow-lipped smile, his stomach did a double flip, bile gurgling in his throat.  Eva was not real.  He was about to meet the real woman.  Carlos was no stranger to the MTV show.  He clenched his fists repeatedly, wondering what the crackerjack box-shaped house held inside.

Was the person even a woman?  Was she overweight?  The birds in the nearby date tree chirped behind him.  To Carlos, it seemed more like they laughed at him like those birds on his son’s favorite movie, Finding Nemo.  David.  He had grown so attached to Eva.  God, he even let this woman into his 4-year-old’s life.  Six months of hour long phone conversations, 3500 FB inbox messages, 5000 texts, and endless Pinterest posts of her dream boards.

Odd questions about what he would do in some town called Headly Rock, CO.  He Googled the city and had never heard of it.  Odd questions about why men behaved like they did on first dates.  Who cared?  Carlos was waiting for their first date to happen.  She always said that the muse was calling and she could not disappoint her.  Carlos wanted to know who this muse was so he could tell her that she needed to back off or get a life.

He felt like a bonafide fool.  What kind of person would do this?


The directors banged on the door again.  Finally, a mousy, 4 ft. 2 woman appeared.  Pencils crisscrossed like chopsticks in her disheveled ponytail.  She cradled a tablet in her hand; a book cover with Eva’s FB profile cover filled the screen.

She flashed her gap-toothed smile and stared into the cameras.  “Hi, I’m Reva Ramone, the author of Eva’s Grace.  My book just came out today.”

Carlos and the directors stood in shock, their mouths open wide like they were elongating an acapella note.





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