By Chris Lihou
The drink mirrored its drinker, a brittle receptacle holding a fiery spirit. Jane had the urge to feel the drink’s throat burn and then smash the glass at some distant target. There would be no more romantic evenings, no more vocal releases of endorphins. He’d decided his wife was the only one.
Looking up, Jane noticed Mr. Handsome smiling at the end of the bar. Returning his lustful gaze, she accepted his refill the bartender proffered. She downed its contents, signed her bill, and wrote ‘Thanks. Room 207’ on her business card that she placed beside Mr. Handsome as she departed.
Wonderful writing
Thank you, Mary