“Shit.”
She hadn’t gotten a corkscrew. She added it to the list of things she’d buy another time, when she had money. Turned out unemployment was possible despite her naive beliefs otherwise.
She twisted a knife, and the bottle slid away from her, off the counter.
She cried, not for broken glass or spilled wine. The summer was almost over and she had no pay stubs or wild memories to show for it. Her roommate was no more than a ghost who laughed behind a closed door. She hadn’t written, except for her signature on the lease.
She grieved that most.
Great. I felt her grief . . .
The last two sentences make the piece.
Nice easy style to read and well written. Keep your thinking cap on and those fingers tapping away, you’ll do just fine.
Sadly relatable for a lot of us. Great writing.
good stuff