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In Joe’s I only order drinks by the bottle and I always offset a dirty, chipped glass at each placemat to discourage new friends.

Tonight I was drinking hard and toteming matchsticks while my gears chewed the Maylaw murders.

Dirk’s meat grinders slid in opposite me, all null grins and gorilla knuckles. Because of the bulges in their jackets, I kept my hands open and easy on the table.

Knuckles One flexed somewhere deep in his chest and nudged Knuckles Two, smirking, reaching.

Like smooth silver I poured one slug, and another.

Their heads hitting the table scattered my matches.

3 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Neville Hunt over 3 years ago

    Very atmospheric; I'm there sitting at the next table and a little anxious! I think I understand what happened, but I'm still thinking about it! Great drabble.

  • avatar

    Alex Munro over 3 years ago

    Great narrative that draws you in. Loved it.

  • avatar

    D.M. over 3 years ago

    'Particularly like the last image. Ending with 'matches.' So simple.
    So effective.

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