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Weekly Contest #79
The alcohol Billie felt in her prefrontal cortex had automatically shifted to standby mode and her primitive self wholeheartedly put on its party shoes. It was undoubtedly the amber that brought resolve to her soul. Tottering on her ornately padded ebony black stool, Billie peered through a thick puff of smoke from Billy's cigarette. She craned her coyly curved neck discreetly scanning the dimly lit humid room as if she was on the lookout for someone or something in particular. But that was typical Billie who had always been a detective of...
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