A grey-haired gambler allergic to horses lays 30-1 in the ninth, sneezes and swears his way through a nail-biter, swings by a drugstore going home for something to soothe his symptoms.
“Lookin’ like a winner, Murph’,” cracks Cassandra, an emphysemic cashier pulling graveyard. “Your watery eyes never lie.”
“And your watery mouth never looked tastier, Cupcake. Got any Calamine lotion? Industrial strength?”
“Celebratin’?”
They share a smoky laugh in twilight’s brown, fluorescent hum.
He fingers the bumps on his anvil-like brow. Hits his inhaler. Loosens his tie. Shrugs. Smiles.
“Don’t gimme that look, Cass’. You know I’m no good pickin’ dogs.”
A wonderful story, John! Had no trouble at all “seeing this one clearly in my mind’s eye.” That’s the mark of a good writer.
Thanks for the kind words and contined support, Bobby.
This was written well. The visualization excellent. Nice work.
I appreciate your comment, Lisa. Thanks.