While the
Goldfinches Forage
by
Andrew Monge
“Good afternoon, Ms. Halvorson. How are you today?”
The old woman startled. “Good heavens! Who are you, and why are you skulking around like that?”
“I’m sorry I scared you, Ms. Halvorson. My name is Jaime, and I’m here to deliver your lunch. Would you like to eat there by the window?”
Confusion crossed her features. “I’m…not sure?”
Jaime set the food tray on an end table. “I think this is a fine spot to take a meal. You can watch the birds at your window feeder.”
Jaime opened a drawer in the table, withdrew a bib, and fastened it around her neck. After some coaxing, he was able to spoon apple sauce into her mouth while she admired the goldfinches outside. When finished, Jaime moved on to the chicken noodle soup. One mouthful in, Ms. Halvorson turned from the window and scrutinized his face.
Jaime’s breath caught.
Ms. Halvorson maintained eye contact for five seconds.
“Mom?” he asked tentatively.
Ten seconds.
“Mom?”
Fifteen seconds, then: “I don’t know your mom, sonny, but I know this soup is too salty and the noodles are mushy.”
Tears pricked Jaime’s eyes. “Sorry, Mo–Ms. Halvorson. I’ll let the kitchen know for next time.”
Bio:
Andrew Monge (Twitter/Bluesky/Substack: @MuchAdoAboutNil) lives in Minnesota with his wife and kids. A computer programmer by day and a voracious reader by night, he is a lifelong introvert who only finds his voice while writing. His work has appeared in Punk Noir Magazine, Trash Cat Lit, Urban Pigs Press, Shotgun Honey, Major 7th Magazine, Micromance Magazine, Bunker Squirrel Magazine, and Pistol Jim Press.
Well done.
Moving