The Best Chinese Restaurant in Amsterdam

© The Storyteller's Abode
© The Storyteller’s Abode

A gentle breeze blew down the narrow street. Two men, one sporting a tweed flat cap, the other sans chapeau, sat drinking tea at a small table outside the best Chinese restaurant in Amsterdam.

“So then, you have the flash drive?” asked René.

“I do. And you?” questioned Donal.

The cap wearing man produced a small laptop, opened it and began typing. After a few moments he turned the screen to his companion.

“As you can see, the funds have been transferred into your account.”

Donal slipped his hand across the table leaving a small, rectangular device in front of René, which disappeared into René‘s coat pocket.

“And so our business is concluded,” René proclaimed with a cough.

Donal smiled. “And now I’ll have that drive back. You’ll have no need of it in a few minutes when the toxic cocktail I slipped into your tea finishes its job.”

René glared at Donal through bulging eyes. The words of his father filled his head as he slumped forward. “Never trust an Irishman.”

Word Count: 172


[Author’s note: I have nothing but love for the Irish as much of my family hails from the Emerald Isle, but it was fun to take a poke at them.

This was my entry into this weeks flash fiction challenge for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy. Write a short story of 150 words or less (+ or – 25 words) inspired by the photo prompt provided.]



15 thoughts on “The Best Chinese Restaurant in Amsterdam

    1. That’s a good point. Knowing your death may be only minutes away is something that’s hard to really process. I think of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. The normally cool headed Indie panicked a bit when he found he’d been poisoned. Thanks for the comment. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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