(no subject)
she hobbled unsteadily toward the building, platform heels clicking out her uncertainty from twenty feet away. she wished she could make herself turn around and go home... but drinking alone makes you an alcoholic, and she'd be damned if she was going to spend another night staying home and being mopey about it.
the line of cars she walked past urged her on, lulling her into the security of being able to lose herself in the crowd. and the first hour was just that. she had conveniently forgotten about dinner, so as the third beer sloshed its way down her throat, she started to feel that little ball of self-loathing she'd been toting around dissolving away. she muffled a cute little hiccup and watched it dance its way into the ether. she began to float closer to the music that drew her inside in the first place, fully despite herself. it was then she saw the source of the ire she thought she was rid of, and his avoidance of her gaze made it well up again from nowhere.
"so that apology was just lipservice, then?"
"yeah. now leave me alone, i'm tryin' to get loaded."
"i can't. i need to talk to you."
he rolled his eyes, grabbed her wrist, and jerked her onto the isolated cold concrete back porch.
"i'm not fucking doin' it," he slurred through a haze of gin and tonic. she wanted to rip out his throat now, but the aroma was still alluring. "i went through this crap for three years with the last one. not gonna happen again."
the last one. he was comparing her to his lying, cheating, drug-abusing ex. tears flamed down her cheek indignantly.
"well, at least do me a favor and don't lie to the NEXT one. You're not allowed to call it love at all if you can flip a switch, just like that, for no reason."
she could have belittled his manhood. she could have reminded him about her steadfast dedication through all the thick and thin he put her through for the last six months. she could have punched him in the face.
she tripped through a few feet of gravel and let her heels click in the other direction.
"i like how mean you are," said the voice of reason handing back her folded and re-folded page of scribblings.
"it's just a story," she said. "all the characters are fictional."
the line of cars she walked past urged her on, lulling her into the security of being able to lose herself in the crowd. and the first hour was just that. she had conveniently forgotten about dinner, so as the third beer sloshed its way down her throat, she started to feel that little ball of self-loathing she'd been toting around dissolving away. she muffled a cute little hiccup and watched it dance its way into the ether. she began to float closer to the music that drew her inside in the first place, fully despite herself. it was then she saw the source of the ire she thought she was rid of, and his avoidance of her gaze made it well up again from nowhere.
"so that apology was just lipservice, then?"
"yeah. now leave me alone, i'm tryin' to get loaded."
"i can't. i need to talk to you."
he rolled his eyes, grabbed her wrist, and jerked her onto the isolated cold concrete back porch.
"i'm not fucking doin' it," he slurred through a haze of gin and tonic. she wanted to rip out his throat now, but the aroma was still alluring. "i went through this crap for three years with the last one. not gonna happen again."
the last one. he was comparing her to his lying, cheating, drug-abusing ex. tears flamed down her cheek indignantly.
"well, at least do me a favor and don't lie to the NEXT one. You're not allowed to call it love at all if you can flip a switch, just like that, for no reason."
she could have belittled his manhood. she could have reminded him about her steadfast dedication through all the thick and thin he put her through for the last six months. she could have punched him in the face.
she tripped through a few feet of gravel and let her heels click in the other direction.
"i like how mean you are," said the voice of reason handing back her folded and re-folded page of scribblings.
"it's just a story," she said. "all the characters are fictional."