Another Drink Will Ease The Chill

Move out every Friday night to take up residence at the local bar–toss back coconut rum, and smoke two whole packs. Fun girl. Party girl. Karaoke Queen, dancing machine until 2 a.m. Oh, you gots a hot tub? You wanna take her to your place? She won’t go, but she’ll show you her tits with a wink and smile. Respect her body, please.

Fast forward 

It’s  Friday again, and she’s sat in her autumn pajamas, smoking menthol ciggies, and writing lines between shots of warm whiskey. She writes in the corner closest to the picture window, exhaling poison grey and thin; the smoke curls loosely as it rises toward the yellowing ceiling, and for a moment the ethereal tendrils take the shape of rheumatoid fingers–a witch’s cold fingers.

Another drink will ease the chill.

The dismal sun is ready to set, concealed by shrouds heavy with late October; she sees pictures of home so clearly in her mind’s eye.

Another drink will ease the chill.

 

 

 

 

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