Council Election Party

[broken_brushes]

It was always a good day when the democratic process had been carried out without a hitch, and this day was no exception. The results of the latest Island Council election were in, and it was time to celebrate, not only the results, but the process itself. And given the number of hardships they endured on the island, a celebration was something

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[thewordofweb]

What had seemed like a good idea so long ago is beginning to grow on my nerves. With a light scratch to my ever-growing beard, I know that the heat and humidity are making it clearly intolerable and that for all my grieving I might have done with this silly act, it's almost over. In a deep-blue shirt and pair of dark denims, I'm cradling a drink in my hands and not trying to knock it back too-quickly.

After all, it's not like I need to add 'abuse of alcohol' to my list of issues.

[saved_the_knees]

"Hey, Webster," Stacy said, stepping up beside him, close enough that their shoulders unintentionally brush. She didn't seem to notice. In her little black dress and silver flats, she seemed even tinier than usual, her hair tumbling messily around her face and her eyes bright from the drink someone had pressed into her hand.

[thewordofweb]

I turn to her, giving her a slightly concerned look when I see the drink, but any comments about drinking from me would be hypocritical at best, so I let it all slide away and offer her a smile. "Stacy," I greet. "You look stunning. Sometimes I think that these parties are just made for all the beautiful women here to make us men feel worthless in comparison."

[saved_the_knees]

"Is it working?" she grinned, twisting just enough to swish her skirt, and for those handful of moments she was playful and knowing until something distracted her.

Abruptly, she reached up a hand to touch his bearded cheek and said, "This is new."

[thewordofweb]

I shrug at the touch, considering I haven't exactly been around civilization so much that people should notice. "It's working," I say, knowing that women like to be told things they already know, like how they look. "Joe hated the idea of me with a beard, so when he vanished I started to grow it. I've started to stop caring how long it is."

[saved_the_knees]

He could have had the beard the very first time she met him, and there was a chance that she wouldn't have noticed.

"Joe?" she asked with a curious frown.

[thewordofweb]

"My ex," I say with mild difficulty, considering the only reason we broke up is because the island had taken him and flung him far out of my reach. "My boyfriend. He was here and now he's not. He hated the beard and I like it. I guess it's my own little private 'fuck you'."