Flash fiction by Delphine Gauthier-Georgakopoulos

Something

Old

Susan’s sense of sarcasm, because it’s not politically correct anymore—or so she was told. Again—but she doesn’t care. She’s not lonely. She’s got her cats to keep her entertained; their zoomies may keep her awake, but they make her laugh. And she’s got insomnia anyway. At least now it doesn’t bother anyone.

New

The loud crack in her right knee that precedes shooting pain, her groaning as she goes up and down stairs. She’s done pretending to be young. Hair colours and Pilates don’t cover it at this point. Past her prime, her use-by date. So be it.

Borrowed

Susan’s pretense to be healthy; drinking herbal tea and eating salads. She tried the green vibe before and could only keep it going for her kids when they were little. Then all hell broke loose. She craved meat and cheese. Junk food. Coffee. Red wine. Everything but green.

Blue

Susan’s swollen ankles, calves, thighs. Blue veins and mood. There should be a registry for menopause. No party or funky cake—although chocolate chip cookies would be okay. Just blue presents: fans, water misters, ice patches, baggy clothes, comfy shoes. But it’s a woman’s issue in a man-made society. So Susan limps to the shop to get some ridiculously priced blue cheese and a bottle of curaçoa to celebrate. She embraces her blue. It’s as refreshing as rocket salad melting in the fridge. Past her prime, her use-by date. So be it.