Short Story

“My drinking is fine. Only reason I drink is because of my Mother. Ironic, is it not? Besides, I have talked enough about the damage that bitch has done to my life in our previous meetings; maybe you should pick on someone new. Like this guy,” Kyra responded, pointing to the tall and limber fellow sitting next to her.

This was not the woman who usually commented when he drank too much. She seemed oblivious to the world as she nibbled her sandwich then emptied the wine glass. She coughed and wine dribbled down her chin. Travis resisted the urge to catch it with his thumb. “You’re making a mess,” he said, and picked up a sandwich.

Since he did not frequent bars and was not sure which one might be tolerable, on his walk home from work, he marched into the first watering hole he spotted in a strip mall. He hadn’t noticed the name of the place, but once inside, the dim light, tacky floors, and funk of stale beer made it clear this was not an upscale establishment, but it was too late to turn around. Besides, did it really matter where he swilled tequila?

Isabella and Carter continue taking shots and drinking other beverages. Time passes and they are both intoxicated.

"Two shots of, well," He began, trying to remember his vodka preference. "Fuck it. Surprise me." He winked at the bartender, who simply shrugged it off and leaned down to grab the shot glasses from under the bar.The bartender pushed his hair back before picking the most expensive vodka they carried, pouring two shots. After all, this dude looked and sounded

You downed the shot. And another. And another. The alcohol left a burning trail down your throat, and turned your breath to fire. It had started to make you feel light headed. You look around the empty apartment and run a hand through your messy hair, listening to the sounds of the traffic so many floors beneath you. Another tear rolled down your face as you refilled the glass with the whiskey that had been keeping you company. The only company you had now.

She should have been hammed, with how quickly she was drinking them, but she wasn’t. The dude behind the bar must have been skipping the alcohol in her drinks. That’s ok, I wanted her fully coherent when I took her over the edge.

“Please, you have to let me stay!” She heard someone plead. “I’m a nurse, I can help out.”

Rudy had a lot to learn about reading. Meredith half listened to his voice at the back of the crowd as she swiped left, left, left. She'd heard him read it so many times she had it memorized. He should be toning it down though. People wanted to co-create the emotional experience.

“It’s not bad if it’s in moderation, you just drank too much. Just a glass or two is fine.”

Kudzu got some fresh cat food and water in his usual spot, and Sophia set up to feed Paloma on the opposite side of the kitchen. The kitchen table was set for four, and Sophia was the last to sit down, opposite Andy and between Barbara and Chip, who both reached out their hands to her. She put her hands in theirs, and Chip bowed his head and delivered the shortest prayer Sophia ever heard. “For what we have received, we give thanks. For what is to come, we say, ‘Yes!’”

Cynthia closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she entered the building of her new job. Today was the first day of her new found job. She was a bit nervous, and a little terrified just thinking about how her day was going to go.

How are we supposed to go in deeper? It’s not like we have a submarine!” “But we do!” Willow exclaimed suddenly. “Huh?” Me and Scarlett asked at the same time. “Well, at least my dad does. He works for the Marine Biology Center, and he can take us down in a submarine!” Willow told us excitedly. “Great! Let’s go!” exclaimed, already running down the driveway. Willow and Scarlett hopped on their bikes that were parked in my driveway, and I got mine out of the garage. Then we set off to the Marine Biology Center.

It was the party of the year, only the hottest, richest, and most popular teen socialites could attend. It was in celebration of surviving their first full week of senior year. There they were, scattered across the enormous penthouse, martinis in hand and holding meaningless conversations with people they probably didn’t like talking about how much daddy’s money bought them this weekend.It was the same spiel over and over again, money this money that, it was almost like because they had so much money it's all they could talk about. There was however something else a little less shallow among their conversations. There had been rumours circulating around Pembroke Preparatory School all week that Cordelia Scott, the once wild child “it” girl

He first glimpsed the sun as it rose above the bell of a French horn.