By Bobby Warner
The glass exploded on the floor beside the bed. He threw the covers aside. She lay sprawled beside him, legs twisted in the covers. “Clumsy me,” she mumbled slurring her words.
“What a loser,” he thought. In the bar she was all over him, hungry for love. But in her bedroom she flopped beside him and fell asleep, snoring until the dropped glass woke her.
Disgusted, he sat up. “You’re just a drunken slut.”
Her eyes snapped open. “Get the hell out!” The wine bottle barely missed his head.
He shrugged on is clothes and hurried out into the rainy night.
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