Tuesday, November 17, 2009


It’s a Saturday night and he was at it again. Same story, same place, same style, same everything. He was a boring fellow but for some reason I kept coming back. He knew me too well - he knew what worked and he knew what could get me loose. It was something out of respect – at least that’s what I told myself. For days upon weeks – maybe even years – I couldn’t even find a moment where I wasn’t wondering what he might whip up next. He was the mastermind of so much.

But this was a different Saturday. Today he wanted to surprise me so I let him go at it.

“The usual?” he coyly muffled to me.

I shot back a bemused smirk.

“You know me better than that,” I impishly griped.

His eyes glinted.

It was then that I knew I was in trouble. Should’ve stopped before things went south.

“Sorry,” I told him.

“I really am.”

He seemed distraught. The gleam was gone.

His eyes tilted downward.

“All I wanted was a drink.”

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