WIP


To watch her stab the lime wedge with her straw as if it were purposeful action instead of an anxious habit, no one would ever guess she’d fallen off one heel as she missed the bar stool. She’d caught her balance and righted herself, still talking as if nothing at all had interrupted her warm greeting. She sat at the bar and just watched.

“Last Call” (Working)

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: