Fiction: ‘New Business’ | Zach Benard
It was 1947. Spring had just begun to conquer the outside air on the same day that Ben August, a middle-aged father, pounded four times with his fist on his son’s faux-mahogany apartment door. Ben couldn’t even enjoy the blossoming flowers or the sound of the robins chirping on this day. He had to cancel his morning plans of fishing in his coastal hometown in Michigan, which would have been a half hour of a drive away from his current home. This wasn’t the first time that Ben found himself executing this action, and his temperament was never positive while in this position; but it was never this bad. Ben waited patiently. He didn’t want to raise his voice and cause a scene, but he did want it to be known that his reasoning for this visit was significant.
After he stared at the nearby peeling floral wallpaper for twenty seconds, and with the notion in his head that this wait seemed eternal, he pounded four more times. This time granted a successful outcome, as Ben’s 23-year-old son, Gordon, opened the door.
My short story went up on ThatLitSite; feel free to check it out.