Member-only story
The Intervention
First Line Fiction Prompt #54
She looked across the table and let the quiet secret spill from her lips, “You don’t know how many times I wished I was more like you.”
It wasn’t the kind of thing anyone expected to hear at an intervention. Everyone thought the intervention was for Mark. He sat in the middle of the room — flanked by folding chairs, a bowl of mini muffins, and six people who loved him just enough to be deeply uncomfortable. The word “concerned” had already been used seventeen times. Sandra was keeping count on the back of her grocery list.
Mark crossed his arms. “This is about the goat, isn’t it?”
“No one said anything about the goat,” mumbled Greg.
“You didn’t have to. It’s always about the goat.”
Emily cleared her throat. “Mark. We’re here because we care about you. And because, frankly, it’s a little alarming that you named your Roomba ‘Mom’ and insisted we all say goodnight to her.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “She’s part of the family.”
“The Roomba’s been off for weeks.”
“She’s resting.”
Sandra coughed into her sleeve to cover a snort.
“Okay,” said Jen, the organizer, flipping her notebook. “Let’s just go around and share…
