The woman slid onto the stool and signalled to the barman.
‘Gin and tonic. No ice. Leave the tonic in the bottle.’
‘Don’t want to drown the gin,’ the man seated next to her said.
‘Mixers should always complement not swamp. I’m Paula.’
‘J …’
Paula removed her finger from his lips.
‘First rule of hotel bar conversations. No real names.’
‘I’m Harry.’
‘Second rule – no truths. I escort prisoners being extradited overseas.’
She added a dash of tonic to the gin and downed it one.
‘I edit a travel magazine. Would you like another?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.
1 comment:
That's the way, isn't it? You don't really tell the truth about yourself to strangers in pubs. Well done, Rob
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