“May I have one more?”
I give her gin, straight.
Her head is aimed at the door.
Her smoke stick is on its last leg.
It has dimmed from red to black.
It is her fourth since 9:00pm.
It is 9:45pm.
Her eyes are red. Is she sad, mad, or a mix of the two?
The door swoops open.
Her head darts towards the door.
A tear makes her left cheek moist.
She is sad.
She gulps her gin and walks towards a stray man in the
crowd.
She flirts.
She smiles.
She leaves with him.
She is still….sad.
This is an assignment for my Creative Writing 284 class. The challenge was to write a story in 100 words and using one syllable only.
Love this I could visualize it. Wonferful.
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