Same again tonight.
She had a bad day at work. And she likes to stop off at the
bar for a drink before she gets home, to let off the steam and not snap at me
about it. A noble enough sentiment, I suppose.
But it’s never just one. She meets the bartender’s eye, and
she’ll have the same again one more time, then another, then another, until she
stumbles home past midnight, drunk and hopefully nothing else.
Tomorrow morning I leave, I can’t live like this, I gotta
get out.
And I’ll say the same again tomorrow night, probably.
No comments:
Post a Comment