Photo copyright Ted Strutz
“What flavor’s your despair tonight, Lace?” Hal asked, slipping a newly-dried glass into the overhead rack. “Cosmo? Heineken? Merlot?”
“Shirley Temple.”
Laughter exploded behind the bar. “Shirley Temple?! You yankin’ my chain? Really, what’ll ya have?”
“I told you. Shirley Temple. Lots of ice.“
“You on the wagon, or somethin’? What gives?”
“It’s for the kid.”
“What kid?” Hal peered suspiciously over the bar and warned, “You know I don’t let no kids in here.”
Suddenly his eyes shot to Lacey’s lap. Stunned, he could barely croak, “You shittin’ me?”
“I told you you shouldn’ta drove me home that night.”
Once again I’ve joined the Friday Fictioneers in a humble attempt to tell a whole story in just 100 words. The action and emotion of these stories are always clear in my mind (should be, since I know everything that wasn’t said), but I’d welcome feedback on anything that I’ve missed which makes the story unclear.
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Posts I commented on today:
West Seattle Murals (Where’s my backpack?)
Quiet in the Corner (Two Shoes in Texas) new blog of the day
Besting your Best (The Better Man Project)
Things I See and Know 