It Looked Better On Me

by R.K. West

My arch-rival, Cassie, left her sweater on the back of a chair in an empty classroom. It was a well-made wool cardigan, in the style that was popular that year, with an Inca-inspired pattern knitted into the back and sides. I wanted one, but the price was beyond my clothing allowance. Of course, Cassie would have one; somehow, she always had whatever I wanted, from perfect hair, to the teacher’s praise, to my now ex-boyfriend.

Classes were over for the day, and there was almost no foot traffic in the hallways. I picked up Cassie’s sweater, knowing that if I stole it, I’d never be able to wear such a recognizable item. I could take it upstairs to the Administrative Office and turn it in as lost and found. Instead, I carried it into the restroom. Ready to dash into a stall if someone came in, I tried it on and gave myself a whirl in the mirror. It felt solid and looked great. I could imagine how much fun I'd have in that sweater, with all the admiring eyes on me, and I was a little bit sad when I stuffed it into the trash can.

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
R.K. West is a co-editor of Sudden Flash.

 

Dinner Scene

by R.K. West

Jay was a waiter at some snooty dinner club.

It was a classy place where nobody bothered the famous people.

At a banquet honoring Cary Grant, Jay bribed the photographer to capture him in a shot with Grant.

He didn’t want to be obviously a waiter, so he set his tray down and maneuvered into position behind the actor.

In the picture, Grant was too handsome, contemplating his drink with a mischievous smile, and Jay looked like he was planning a jewel heist.

I haven’t seen Jay since 1981, and I lost my copy of the photo two or three moves ago.

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
R.K. West is a Pacific Northwest writer.

 

Food Memories

creative nonfiction
by R.K. West

When I was little, family holiday dinners were always at my great-grandma's house.

She had a sturdy oak dining table that could be extended by the insertion of multiple leaves. In her tiny dining room, the long table had to be placed diagonally, and even then the table, chairs, and people barely fit. An overflow table (or two) used by random children and claustrophobic adults was placed in the living room.

In addition to the turkey and some other dishes that Granny and her helpers prepared, most of the guests brought their own specialties. We could expect roast beef, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, gravy, brussel sprouts, probably some other vegetables, a few different salads, a variety of cranberry sauces, olives, bread, and, of course, a wide array of desserts.

Nobody went hungry.

One of the things I loved about these dinners was that I could eat whatever I wanted, and skip what I didn't. At home, my parents demanded that we eat everything on the plate, no matter how disgusting it was. At Granny's holiday table, serving dishes were passed around and everyone chose freely.

I remember those meals fondly, and have used my memories as inspiration to cook. I once commented to my mother that canned peas make me smile because they remind me of Granny's cooking.

"She didn't serve canned peas," my mother said.

"I remember them clearly," I told her.

Mom explained that Granny went to all the trouble of buying fresh peas and shelling them by hand. Then she cooked them the same way everyone in her family had always cooked them, which meant boiling them until they may as well have come out of a can. It seems a little crazy now, going to all that trouble to make fresh vegetables un-fresh, but it was the style of a particular time and place.

Today I eat most of my vegetables steamed, roasted, or raw. But now and then I encounter some boiled or canned peas, and I eat them with a smile, feeling just a little bit like a kid at Granny's holiday table.

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
R.K. West is a former ESL teacher and travel blogger, currently living in the Pacific Northwest and posting on Bluesky at @ithinkiwrite.bluesky.social.

 

25 Words or Less

by R.K. West

These were written in response to a challenge to tell a story in 25 words or less.

For Better or - What?
Belching at the dinner table. Shoes on the bedspread. Weird bathroom noises. Really, really dirty laundry. Newlywed Laura began to rethink marriage.

SWAK
I sent you a thousand love letters but they all came back marked "postage due".

It Sounded Like Fun
He thought sexual variety meant another girl. She thought it meant another location. Boy, were they surprised.

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
R.K. West is a former ESL teacher and travel blogger, currently living in the Pacific Northwest and posting on Bluesky at @ithinkiwrite.bluesky.social.

 

The Classics

by R.K. West

The faculty lounge was quiet. Professors Anthony Nelson and Charlene Hampton sat at adjacent tables, both drinking coffee from university-branded mugs. Hampton graded a stack of essays while Nelson stared at the screen of a small laptop computer.

“Nobody reads Hemingway any more,” Nelson complained through gritted teeth. “And now the department has dropped him from the required reading list.”

“Really,” said Hampton with unfeigned indifference. “Who’s required now?”

Nelson winced. “Joan Didion.”

━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
R.K. West lives in the Pacific Northwest, and uses the endless rain as an excuse to stay inside and write.