100-Word Fiction: ‘If I Could Just…’

If I could just…

Why were they looking so anxious? What were they trying to protect? Alaric knew. He knew! He tried again:

If I could just…

I think we need to look elsewhere, said one of the bosses.

Yes, yes, said one of the acolytes. We need to show some ingenuity, be more convincing.

They weren’t even listening to Alaric.

If I could…

We need to look at bringing more people in.

The meeting table looked like a battleground: legions of coffee cups, glasses, crisp packets.

And Alaric was a petty vandal caught up in their petty fucking empire.

Published by MW Bewick

Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. Books including Pomes Flixus, The Orphaned Spaces and Scarecrow are available from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com

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