It’s March. If I couldn’t read the calendar, I could still tell by the weather, whipping from beautiful to raw sometimes in a matter of hours. We may have snow this weekend. The weather keeps me on track. As long as I remember it’s March, I remember my marathon. Tonight I give you flash fiction. Yes, after I stuck my toe in the water last year, I have written it again. It will never be my favorite genre, but it is possible to tell a story in less than a page…though the story probably won’t be particularly complex. So tonight, we examine - what’s in a number?

36C

He hesitated. Everyone told him she was beautiful, but he knew his friends. They would send him out with a porcupine if they could get one to go out with him. He didn’t trust them. Still, the refrain kept running through his head – 36C. Whenever he asked about her, that was what they told him. 36C, they said. She’s 36C. It might be worth a chance. Even a porcupine might be a worthy date with such measurements. He entered the apartment building, his step lighter. He would get lucky tonight, he was sure of it.

The only one in the lobby was his friend, waiting to take him to the correct apartment and introduce him to the girl of his dreams. “Dude! You got here! Just wait until you see her!” They headed up the elevator to the third floor. “I bet she’s waiting for you, eager for…” His friend stopped, winked, and nudged him with his elbow. “Here’s the apartment. I’ll stand back while you meet her, and then I’ll introduce you.”

He stood in front of the door, not sure whether to knock. His eyes darted around the hallway until he returned to staring at the door. He stared right at the apartment number – 36C. He’d been duped again. He set off down the hall at a run, not paying any attention to his friend calling him back, following him, trying to figure out what was wrong.

She heard it all from inside. She grinned; another man revealed his true self before she was stuck on a date, fighting him off. She turned off the light, slipped into the bath, and picked up her book. Her bra was discarded on the floor beside the tub. The label didn’t show, but she knew what it said – 36C.