[059] — Flash fiction number two
Feb 23, 2017 · 1 min read
The smell was pungent and familiar, a mixture of beer soaked carpet and mildew. A couple of short, butch dykes looked up from the pool table as I walked in. There was a different feel to the place with daylight streaming through the windows. All the posturing and pretence was stripped away.
I found him sitting alone in the back corner of the courtyard, with an empty beer jug on the table. He looked up, his eyes slow and lazy.
“So I got caught,” he rolled a cigarette and stared down at his fingers to avoid meeting my eyes.
I reached across the table and touched his arm, “you are coming home with me.”
