Short Stories
Last Call
If I don’t bend my knee, I’ll have to break it soon in order to pull myself away from the bar. The scuffed laminate of the wooden stool audibly winces as I attempt to nudge myself off by dragging my boots along the bar’s faded burgundy side. This might be some trouble, if I yack now I’m done for, but it’s hard to fight it when I can feel the bottom of my boots sticking to the […]
