By Emily Roth
The bartenders worry about me, but they always make our drinks anyway. Gin for me, whiskey for you. Yours waits in front of your empty stool.
If she were here, she’d be yelling about something. They laugh when they indulge me.
We don’t talk about that night.
My last sight of you, bundled in your coat, slamming the bar door. How I didn’t follow you. How I wonder whether you saw the bus coming.
If I sit still, I sometimes smell your perfume. Tendrils of frozen air graze my neck.
At the end of the night, your glass is always empty.
Chilling and beautiful!
A great story – love the ending – who drank her drink? We’ll never know…
So powerful. Stunning story in so few words.
VERY nice writing.
This is so tight, so powerful, so beautiful. And so incredibly sad. Well done.
Good job. Nice feeling to story.
OUTSTANDING and powerful story!!!
NICE
Like it!
Explicit. I love this. The story ties in a perfect bow.
Excellent. Great job with both the pace and attention to detail.
This is powerful!