Ninety-Eight Words

A very short story.

The woman reaching for eggs wears Exclamation perfume, and for one stupid second, I was twenty again, half-drunk on her shampoo and cigarette smoke, burying my face in the crook of her neck while her laugh vibrated against my mouth. The scent used to stay in my pillows for days after she left, powdery and warm, like her body had only just slipped out of the sheets. I turned before I could stop myself, heart already embarrassing me with hope, but the woman looking back was older and entirely someone else. The grocery store lights suddenly feel merciless.

---

This is a response to day 14 of Bradley Ramsey’s “Halls of Pandemonium” writing event. Although I’m not participating in the scoring portion of the event (you know, since I, uh… wrote the backend for it), likes, comments and restacks will (maybe) help us achieve community goals and spread the word about the challenge.