Mini Fiction: the tiny immaculate lunch

I noticed her when I entered the park because she had taken the very best seat on the very best bench and although that annoyed me, I had to admire her taste. She understood where the best light was at this time of day, and she sat there with the immaculate lunch on her lap, motionless.

By the time I was seated (in the second best spot in the park) I was surprised to see that she hadn’t moved at all. The small lacquer box was still on her lap. 1/

It was like a jewelry box, but I would soon discover, it was in fact, her tiny immaculate lunch.

I began fiddling with my book, with my phone and the other excuses I’d made for coming to the park, but I couldn’t help glancing over at the woman seated motionless with the austere lacquered box on her lap, her hands at its side, as if waiting to remove the lid.

And then, exactly at noon, when the bells rang: she lifted the lid. 2/

She lifted it directly upwards and then holding it aside with one hand, she removed a single folded dark-blue cloth napkin from the box. This she placed on the bench beside her, smoothing it once and then on it she placed the lid.

Lunch Had Begun.

3/

It was a very small lunchbox, more like a large jewelry box than a lunchbox at all, and I could not quite see the contents from the place where I sat.

Nonetheless I watched as she removed some implement for eating a dainty fork held between two fingers, a little spear for grabbing perfect morsels, and in this way, she ate, and although I could not see *what* she was eating, I could tell that whatever they were they were in rows.
4/

She ate each row, each perfect bite from left to right, one after another and then she paused, removing some object, perhaps a divider from the box and then from it lifted something a bit bigger something more like a sandwich or a small roll: this she ate in precisely four exacting bites.

5/

Only then did she place down the tiny fork and then with her right hand reaching across her lap, she lifted up the lid from its resting place on the dark-blue cloth. Gently, tenderly she placed the cloth into the box folding it yet again and then with both hands, she replaced the lid.

The immaculate lunch was over.

6/6 End

Central Park is very strange.

Only then did she place down the tiny fork and then with her right hand reaching across her lap, she lifted up the lid from its resting place on the dark-blue cloth. Gently, tenderly she placed the cloth into the box folding it yet again and then with both hands, she replaced the lid.

The immaculate lunch was over.

6/6 End

Central Park is very strange.

@futurebird the way you told this made us expect some sort of contemporary Pandora story

at any rate, a very compelling telling. thank you

Only then did she place down the tiny fork and then with her right hand reaching across her lap, she lifted up the lid from its resting place on the dark-blue cloth. Gently, tenderly she placed the cloth into the box folding it yet again and then with both hands, she replaced the lid.

The immaculate lunch was over.

6/6 End

Central Park is very strange.

@futurebird Perhaps her routine is the one single moment of peace and sanity in an otherwise troubled turbulent existence? It might be in memory of a lost loved one from long ago? So many people, looking for just a tiny bit of comfort.