The morning fog rolled down the street and Dzinski followed it. Each step he took rattled his teeth, sent a pulse of pain arching around his head. He reached out to steady himself against the wall but missed, and landed heavily on the sidewalk.
He remembered a bar, a brunette and too many bourbons.
The concrete was cool against his cheek. It would be to easy sleep here, if it wasn’t for that voice nagging at him, telling him to get up, telling him he missed something, that there was more to remember.
Dzinski stood, determined to find out what happened.
loved this micro prose
I enjoyed this one — and I’ll remember this line for a while: He remembered a bar, a brunette and too many bourbons.
Nice!
This is a great 101! Rich in imagery and a complete story. “…a bar, a brunette and too many bourbons.” Indeed! ????
A brilliant story Craig.
Thanks everyone, appreciate the comments.