Mutt watched as the girl slammed back the shot and bit into a slice of lemon.
What was her name again? Jodie? Joni?
Shit. Why was he here?
Annie would hate this place. She’d be right.
He tossed a few bills on the bartop, walked outside and grabbed his phone.
Another week, another microflash piece. This one stems from the Dry Spell universe again. Another little glimpse of a larger story. Quite literally.
Annie, Mutt and I still haven’t decided whether we’re going to turn them into a novella or a longer piece still. Something they either want to be a novel, or they’ll want a sequel.
Jayna’s prompt for the week was “lemon.”
The first thing that came to mind is “tequila shots.”
I did quite a few of these in my younger years. And I remember the atmosphere of a crowded, noisy bar, eye contact over a row of shots, and the unspoken communication flying back and forth.
In a place like that, you have no choice. Spoken communication is impossible if you want to have anything resembling a voice the next day.
But unspoken communication requires two willing partners. Maybe next week’s story will be about the girl Mutt just walked out on. Who knows?
I think she could use a moment of realisation of her own. Don’t you?
Big thanks are owed to Damian Jay Clay, R. Jean Bell, Anike Kirsten and all the others who helped me work on this.
I’m so lucky to count them all among my friends.