La Belle – A Flash Fiction

La Belle

La Belle - A Flash Fiction

It was his favorite place, serving his favorite drink.
La Belle Cafe, small and rustic, but with enough covered outside space, to always get a table overlooking the busy street and enjoy his favorite pastime.
People watching was more than just a job, it was a window into a world, he chose to be only a part of on occasion, a world whom he used, to gain information, to manipulate if necessary, to remove a piece from, sometimes quickly, sometimes violently.
But in this spot, with a simple cup of coffee in his hand, at La Belle, he felt almost as if he was not the distant observer, but a part of the whole. The cup, white, without any of the delicate frazzle, and flowers, held the warmth nicely, and allowed him to nurse in comfort and quiet style, on the standard two beverages he indulged in, every time he came back home.
La Belle was home, more home than any hotel room, hiding suitcases of assorted arsenal, more home than a quickly rented shack, in their various stages of decay, during and after assignments. It was the place of warmth, a smile of recognition of the beautiful ginger waitress, a nod from the owner, a quiet solitude.
With a small, perfectly shaped silver spoon, he merged the sweetness of the sugar with the exquisite liquid and almost smiled, despite himself.
Even killers needed a little peace.

Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2014

 

 

 

9 thoughts on “La Belle – A Flash Fiction

  1. I guess someone who leads such an unusual life would savour these tranquil moments of normality, blending in with the scenery, just one face among many enjoying the day. It probably would be good practice for his chosen career too.

  2. Pingback: Friday Flash » The #FridayFlash Report – Vol 6 Number 12

    • that is absolutely true – in some cases, others do require a change in scenery every now and then. Human psyche is too complicated to put into one box, nor should that attempt be made, which makes it interesting to explore certain angles of such, through writing, especially when it lies outside of ones own usual behavior, don’t you think, Jon?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s