Sweet Monday, it's a Drabble

A drabble is a story told in 100 words. Yeah, about right for a stay-at-home-sick Monday.


She bangs into hallway walls like a pinball, in her fists cold French toast slathered in blackberry jam – globs of which have escaped onto flannel jammies.
She’s in the grip of Ambien, two, taken with wine.
He’s up, two time zones west, flirting with a woman whose number was on a bar napkin.
The text, *rgrrmfh, comes first, followed by an email, voicemail.
He ignores the incoming, notes the time, smiles, plots.
She wakes, the cell tucked in her armpit, blackberry seeds stuck in her teeth.
“Oh, hell.”
And checks the phone, seeing what apologies need to be made.


Quin Browne said...

i can't decide to if i should laugh or be insulted.

it was ONE seed.... ONE.

and i never wear flannel.

well done, my sick (in many ways) friend... well done.

Si Wang-mu said...

Thom, were you hiding in the bathroom?? How did you know her cell is always in her armpit?

Cormac Brown said...

Wait a minute Quin, how can you not wear flannel PJs during those Utah winters?

Quin Browne said...

i'm hot blooded, cb.... no, you can't check it and see. anne scares me.

Cormac Brown said...