Nobody talks at dinner; their heads are down, staring at devices in their hands. The other hands hold utensils, and they work in motion from the plates to the mouths, making occasional noises.

I bring a spoonful of the tomato bisque to my lips, “I miss the old times,” muttering under my breath.

All heads at the table turn in my direction. I quickly cover my mouth, “I’m sorry…” My son’s face turns pale, and my husband’s red. My daughter’s mouth agape.

Knocks at the door, and we all gasp.

“Emotion Police.”

For Friday Fictioneers – 8 January 2021.

PHOTO PROMPT @ Jan Wayne Fields

26 thoughts on “order

  1. Some people have become Bits and Bytes sucked into cyberspace. My sister in law sends msg on their phones to her children upstairs when dinner is ready.
    People are invisible.
    Loved how your story draws out the truth of our lives.

    Liked by 2 people

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