Flash Fiction: Dialogue

[My Work]

It’s Joan’s turn to clean out the refrigerator in the company breakroom. Scrunching-up her nose, Joan opens the refrigerator door. The fridge's packed contents come from various origins--brown paper bags with their owner’s names neatly inscribed; leftover Chinese restaurant to-go containers; zip-lock bags with sandwiches, grapes, carrot sticks, or unidentifiable items; foil-wrapped mystery fare; one greasy pizza box from the staff appreciation lunch a week ago; condiment containers; bottles of juice, water, and pop; and plastic containers of often indeterminate, occasionally fuzzy, foodstuff. Sighing, Joan pulls a plastic trashcan over to the open fridge.

As she grabs the pizza box, Carl comes in. “You’re not going to throw that pizza out, are you?” asks Carl. “I‘ve been working on that.” Joan opens the pizza box. She looks at the two desiccated slices of pizza and three rock-hard pizza slice ends, before looking at Carl. 

“Don’t you have irritable bowel? Eating this can’t be good for you.” Carl reaches for the pizza box, 

“I can handle it.” Joan shrugs, then hands Carl the box. Carl smiles, “My precious!” Shaking her head, Joan picks up a to-go box. “Is that still good? Maybe I’ll take it home for tonight,” says Carl. Joan, without expression, hands Carl the box of Chinese food. Carl opens the to-go box, sniffs, then tosses it in the trashcan. “it’s past.” 

“Did you want to check these other two, before I toss’em?’ Ask Joan. Carl considers it for a moment. 

“No, I’m good.” 

“Whatever,” Joan says. Carl continues to watch, as Joan discards the remaining Chinese to-go containers. As Joan reaches for an oblong, foil-covered item, Carl say, 

“I wonder if that’s a breakfast burrito. Remember when Bob brought in a bunch of them on Monday for everyone? I never did get one...” Joan hands Carl the foil-covered item. 

“Perhaps you would like to finish cleaning this out yourself? I’d hate for you to miss out on anything,” says Joan. 

“That’s ok. It’s not my turn to clean out the fridge,” says Carl. 

“You’re a keeper, Carl.” says Joan.