her breath was like a shoe
Her breath was like a shoe. I thought this to myself as she was hugging me and holding her beer up in the air and away from her thin body in sort of a perpetual toast. I don’t know why she held her beer that way, but I do know that her breath was like a shoe.
She was pretty, but her eyes looked tired because she was drunk. She hugged almost listlessly, her small cuteness and her small cute breasts lessened somewhat by her level of intoxication.
She was hugging me and it was loud and I was trying to politely hear what she was saying. She said I was a great guitar player, but she couldn’t hear what I was playing. This seemed incongruous to me, but I was inclined to let it slide. Maybe she liked my facial expressions.
She said “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” I said.
“Well is she here?”
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Jim Hodgson, one year in high gear. is proudly powered by WordPress Entries (RSS) and Comments (RSS).