Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Wakefield Doctrines’ contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop
Denise is the host.
The prompt word:
SPACE
Alone in the kitchen, the shapeless reflections of the overhead fluorescent lights on the stainless steel surface gamely stepping up as urban sunsets, the tall, thin man untied the string securing the two slightly-glossy pastry boxes and arrayed them on a pair of glass platters; kiffles in a short, very orderly row were offset by the glaze-shiny elephant ears flanked by white-dusted bear claws; the second platter was reserved for the rank-and-file pastries, three cup cakes, four filled donuts and two lemon squares.
Keying off the self-important rumblings of the coffee urn, the Proprietor backed out through the double-swinging doors, Fred sans Ginger, in three ‘Roll Aways To A Half Sashay’ until everything was laidout on the end of the bar farthest from the Café’s entrance, the exterior of the door currently sporting a ‘Closed for Inventory’ sign.
Setting a china mug, SSC&B in gold leaf along its top edge, in front of Mimi, he nodded acknowledgement of her raising the cup in thanks, turned slightly to his left and looked down the room towards the focal point of the main room.
Nick and Denise were standing at the front edge of the stage, a brief flash of light from the ride cymbal brought Ford into view; knowing that Chris was still in Nepal, the man wearing an apron and an expression of being at peace for the moment, glanced towards a dark alcove set into the street-side wall, like travel through interstellar space he trusted his sense of where Jenne’s eyes would be once his smile reached her.
Calling out, in a voice both hesitant and excited, “Nick, perhaps you could put that fine-looking ’57 Precision to some use and conjure up something with a classical feel without putting a body to sleep?”
Putting his cigar down on the long edge of the 2×12 Bassman bottom, the bearded man nodded to Denise who, somehow, had a flute in her hands and played a series of notes that transported the tall, thin man back at least forty years in time.
*
The post Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine- [a Café Six] first appeared on the Wakefield Doctrine.
