The Compact Chronicles: Tablecloth

Renata watched the movers lug the last of the equipment out to their truck.  “A good run,” she thought. “Renata’s Italian Food, est. 1963.” She and Salvatore had opened it on a lark. They’d worked hard, put two kids through college, and invested for retirement.

When Sal and the kids died in the car accident, she managed on her own for a while, but the memories lived in every table and booth.

Taking the tablecloth off the table she’d been sitting at, she folded it, put it in her purse — a token.

The back door closed behind her with a final clang.

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This piece is part of The Compact Chronicles — short fiction rooted in old prompt exercises. Most pieces hover near a hundred words; now and then one stretches a bit (259-ish), and even the longest pieces stay under 500 words.