[stylist] Flash fiction-- looking for feedback

[Shelley Alongi]

If I didn't know what this was I wouldn't call it flash fiction I would call it a scene. I don't know that I personally would read anymore stories with this character but somebody else might. Otherwise the grammar looks good. There is one sentence I wouldn't put had in that sentence I would've just written she sat across the aisle. We understand the characters thinking in the past.

Shelley, Queen of bells out!
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> On Jun 28, 2017, at 8:01 PM, Tessa via stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
> 
> Hi, 
> I would consider this a scene, rather than a piece of flash fiction, ff as I understand it is a complete, very short story, 500 to 800 or so words.
> Tessa
> 
> 
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: Alyssa Frierson via stylist  <stylist at nfbnet.org>
> To: stylist at nfbnet.org
> Date: Wednesday, June 28, 2017 7:39 pm
> Subject: [stylist] Flash fiction- looking for feedback
> 
>> 
>> 
>> Hello,
>> 
>> I've recently written my first piece of flash fiction, tentatively
>> titled "Lying Lady Lover." It might be part of a series; I'm not sure
>> yet. I've pasted it below. I was wondering if I could get some
>> feedback. Does it hold your interest? Would you read more stories with
>> this character?
>> Thank you.
>> 
>> You should know that I am a girl who likes girls. You should also know
>> I have not told my family about this part of myself. I want to become
>> a vegetarian, but I'm not sure why. It feels like the right thing to
>> do to help save the planet. My family doesn't really know this either,
>> though I think they suspect.
>> I'm sitting at the dinner table, cutting into my sausage and
>> pretending it's a zucchini. My sister, Amelia, is sitting across from
>> me, yammering on about some boy at school, letting her food get cold.
>> As I mash my fork into my potatoes, I think about the pretty girl I
>> saw on the bus earlier today. She got off two stops before me, near
>> the hospital. I tried not to stare as she walked past, tried not to
>> notice how she smelled of coffee or how her hair fell in thick dark
>> ringlets down her back.
>> I'd also tried not to notice, as she walked away, her tight jeans and
>> even tighter t-shirt, purple with some writing scribbled across the
>> front. She'd sat across the aisle and down a little to the left of me,
>> and I'd been able to tell a few things about her when I stole quick
>> glances. She looked in her early twenties, about my age,. She wore no
>> makeup or jewelry, except a silver bracelet on her right wrist. Her
>> purse was on her lap, and-
>> "Maggie?" Amelia breaks into my thoughts.
>> "What?"
>> She puts emphasis on every word, sounding annoyed. "Pass the potatoes."
>> I do, glancing at her half-empty plate before I chase a pea around my
>> plate with my fork.
>> She's saying something else now as she mashes her potatoes, but I'm
>> not listening. I'm still thinking about the girl on the bus and
>> wondering where she went when she got off, what her name is, if I'll
>> see her again.
>> 
>> 
>> - 
>> Alyssa Frierson
>> Blogging at:
>> http://diabetesdiary.dreamwidth.org/
>> 
>> Follow me on Facebook:
>> https://facebook.com/AlyssaFriersonAuthor/
>> 
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> 
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