Bukowski for Breakfast

“So what kind of books do you like?” she’ll ask

“Well…” You’ll say, “I read 1984 once and it’s my favorite!”

“Only once?” you’ve got her curiosity now.

“Yeah I mean, it was too intense, too wild, too much to read a second time” She’s got a funny look on her face now.

But the tilt of her head changes, she smiles and looks down but doesn’t respond.

“What do you read?” you’re feeling inferior for some stupid reason “Anything since Twilight?” Oh, boy.

She can’t help but laugh, and audibly enough to get the entire bar’s attention. “ahhh, oh that’s good!” She’s still chuckling as she polishes off her drink and then grabs your full one- a vodka soda for fuck’s sake- and finishes that without skipping a beat.

She’s getting up now, reaching for her coat but she hasn’t taken her eyes off you yet.. “you know, although Twilight was a classic” she takes two steps towards you, she’s so close to your face you can smell your Smirnoff “I eat Bukowski for fucking breakfast”.

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