By Cory Fosco
Her stripper name was ‘Cinnamon,’ but she did not smell like Christmas. Her scent was more stale cigarettes and vodka, and if Earl was being honest, also sweat. He had seen her pole-dancing other nights, but she wasn’t working right now.
She had walked up to Earl and asked him to buy her a drink. Teeth chattering, her vacant gaze sliding away, she ran cold fingers through his hair.
Earl felt it was a strange coincidence, given he’d gone to Starbucks earlier that day and they had just turned the menu. He walked away knowing how bad that latte turned out.
Oh, wow, this is stark and gritty. Perfect for the subject matter. Love the last sentence. Well done!
Thank you, Patty š
I loved the strangeness of the story. Also admired your mastery of language.
Thank you for the feedback, David. Iām glad you responded to my piece.