Morrison did a double take. The woman on the yoga mat was definitely calling him.
‘Sorry. Can you help? I’m stuck.’
Despite the glorious weather the park appeared empty. Holding Harlem’s lead firmly, he approached what looked like a human pretzel.
‘Something clicked.’ The woman sounded in real pain.
Morrison tried to focus on her face, mimicking her twist to meet her gaze. ‘What do I do?’
‘An ambulance. Please.’
‘I don’t have a phone.’
She groaned. ‘Can you use mine? It’s there.’ Her finger appeared between her knees and pointed at her bum.
The distinctive shape of an old Nokia, its lit keys and screen showed through the taught Lycra. ‘I think I can dial.’
While Morrison rang 999, Harlem licked the woman’s face. It didn’t help.
It took twenty minutes before the paramedics came. Given the woman’s discomfort as they moved her, Morrison slipped away quickly. He wondered, if he ever saw her again, would he recognise her? Maybe not but he’d remember her phone, of that he was sure.
Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story, in around 150 words based on the weekly photo prompt. For more information visit HERE.