‘Don, I … it’s over.’
‘Pardon?’
‘This.’ Stacy waved her arm. ‘It’s over.’
‘What’s over?’ Don glanced down at Stacy’s head resting on his shoulder.
‘This. Us. All of it.’
Don turned down the sound on the television.
‘You’re not making sense, Stace.’
‘Because … Because …’ Stacy started to sob.
‘Hey, what’s wrong?’
‘I’m … I’m an idiot. That’s what’s wrong. You deserve better than me.’ Stacy slid off the sofa, tipped against the coffee table and fell.
Don knelt down beside her. ‘That’s the drink talking.’
‘That’s a two-timing bitch talking.’
‘Stacy?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’re right, it’s over.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.
1 comment:
Nicely done, Rob. Now I'm wondering whether she ever would have said anything if she hadn't had too much to drink. Either way, that's a nice, tense scene.
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