Thawed Out

“I’m sorry, sir, but we have no reservation under that name,” she said in a put-on pseudo-British accent to no one in particular just as the timer on the microwave turned over to zero and made its angry announcement that her TV dinner was heated through.

“You’ll have to make other arrangements for this evening’s repast.”

And with that, she delivered her meal with a sly, self-satisfied smile and a flourish to the folding tray at the Laz E boy recliner in front of the TV, eager to return to her beloved The Price is Right reruns.

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: reservation

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