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Weekly Contest #54
The bar is as crowded as always, the walls as sticky and tacky as the people filling it. I'm absentmindedly wiping down glasses, putting them away and tacking on my bartender smile, the one that simultaneously draws people in and makes them forget you. A stranger walks in. They're tall and have broad shoulders, and their muscles show through their shirt. I'm vaguely aware that I'm still drying an already-dry glass. He looks across the place, a ghost of a smile on his mouth, becoming on his strong jaw and cheekbones. His full he...
Weekly Contest #53
Hot. The air was so hot. It was heavy, and sticky and oppressive. It clung to the roof of your mouth and the backs of your ears, hiding in your armpits and the crooks of your elbows. Persephone was sitting on the edge of her bed, her suitcase open in front of her, the clothes inside neat and politely recumbent. In her lap was her stuffed cat, Mirabelle, a gift from her mother all those years ago. She looked up at Pers with loving, yellow eyes, beady with hope. Persephone fiddled with the handmade collar around her worn ...
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