She confirmed that the meeting lasted for more than three hours. At these times pastries and coffee are merely decorative. Neither party stoops to accept a fix of sugar or caffeine. After the smiles and handshakes it is the tiniest details that count. The way one of them tilts their head towards an unnecessary interpreter; the merest upturn of one corner of one mouth. They try not to blink, try not even to avert from their focused stares. Water is refreshed and refreshed again. The summit builds understanding but not trust. Nothing is lost, but there is nowhere to run.
100-Word Fiction: ‘Yulia [3]’
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 View more posts
MW Bewick 