She’s … a Lot
Flash Fiction
I have to be in the right mood to go clubbing, and I wasn’t, not that night, not most nights if I’m honest. But his ex was in town for the weekend and all the old crew was meeting up at Destiny and what was I going to say? Don’t go, I’m jealous? Cuddle with me, I made soup? Let’s stay in and de-worm the cat?
Yeah, right.
Plus I thought it would be a good test of all the new-leaf, be-your-best-self stuff my yogi has been preaching. I’m a grown-ass woman. I can sit at the bar like a person, and watch my boyfriend bop with his ex-girlfriend without losing my shit. I could notice, in an abstract kind of way, how good they looked together, both so tall and toned and golden brown.
I could admire her silky black dress, and how perfectly it cupped her perfectly perfect breasts.
I could slam back three vodka tonics and sway to the music, and NOT get up and snatch her obviously fake hair off her obviously stupid head, and NOT slap that silly ass smirk off his silly ass face.
I wasn’t bothered. Not at all.
Look at me over here, growing.
His friends kept a wary eye on me, having heard the tales of my temper from mutuals. I know what they said to him when we started dating. She’s cool and all, they whispered. She’s…
