Microfiction

Microfiction is a hobby of mine. Microfiction can be best defined as really short stories. It's easier than writing a standard short story, but it can still be challenging to get a story across in about 250 words. Someone lent me a book of microfiction in high school and I ended up loaning my copy to someone else. I found another one at a big book sale in San Francisco.
I've tried to write several pieces of microfiction. Here's one I wrote a week ago or so. I posted on a "microfiction salon" page on facebook that one of my friends created. It's called Aquamarine.

Susan couldn’t tolerate him any longer. His reaction on leaving the theatre was always the same: “They certainly got what was comin’ to ‘em!”
A Passage to India. Terminator 2. Passion of the Christ. Gorillas in the Mist. The Diary of Anne Frank. Always the same reaction.

The next morning his breakfast was gone in roughly 45 seconds. Under a minute for 2 eggs, 4 strips of bacon, toast, and an indiscernible amount of home fries. Inhaled, like miscellaneous fuselage being sucked into a giant jet engine before the plane explodes. But he didn’t explode. He just burped and shot both hands into the air and shouted, “Ladies and Gentleman, a new World record!”

With Charles and Rose off to college in completely opposite directions (this was a fact she had verified by use of a ruler on three separate occasions) she couldn’t very well leave. The children were still children and though they would never say it out loud, they still needed their mommy. Susan couldn’t tolerate him but would have to.

And tonight, pen locked in her teeth, knees bent and reading glasses on, she’d asked him for an eight-letter word for “greenish blue” and his answer was aquamarine