Modern Flash Fiction

Mr. Pancake was born and raised in Stacktown. He never moved. Each morning he went to work on the syrup line, clocking in with a flowered thumb.

Efficiency was key.

Smiles were suspect.

Bubbles were bad.

Nothing thrilling ever happened to him, nor did anything dreadful.

Miss Fondant grew up in Confectionary Heights but moved into a Stacktown for a change of pace. She was sweet spun sugar but had a sassy side. She dressed stylishly and was bold enough to live out loud.  She hoped to save someone, or at least to be known.

Mr. Pancake caught sight of her one day At A Cafe as she tossed cubes of raw sugar into her tea. She grinded him and from then on he was stuck on her. They began dating first just for coffee and then long walks through griddle works. He shared things with her. Things he’d never told anyone before like how he was seeing a spatula therapist weekly and how at night when he couldn’t get to sleep had put warm pats of butter over his eyes. She nodded, understanding him, understanding everything.

Mr. Pancake thanked the syrup gods for sending her his way and allowing him to feel all these feelings.

Run away with me, she told him one night while he had his arm draped over her shoulder.

And in an instant he could picture it. Her and him always being us, navigating the sugar storms together. The thrill of melting into her, completely.

But then, he remembered himself, his routine and its safety. He knew no life outside Stacktown. He knew no other grills. He couldn’t learn any new patterns.

He was just Mr. Pancake. Flat. Stayed.

Run away with me she repeated. This time he answered her.

“I can’t. I don’t know how.”

She stayed the night but left the next morning, not just his apartment, but she skipped Stacktown. And her absence made him feel hollow.

Mr. Pancake wonders, if he would have said yes then, they would have risen… or would they have just burned?

Allison Whittenberg is an award-winning novelist and playwright. Her poetry has appeared in Columbia Review, Feminist Studies, J Journal, and New Orleans Review. Whittenberg is a ten-time Pushcart Prize nominee.  They Were Horrible Cooks is her collection of poetry.