It’s not like I was totally embarrassed or something.
I mean I’ve been this drunk before, on hot dry nights and nights as cold and rainy as this one.
But tonight I may have blushed a little when I couldn’t pay the bartender for the vodka on the rocks he nudged across the crowded bar – my seventh or eighth or tenth that evening – because I had forgotten my wallet in the rush out of my girl Alice’s.
I reached for it in my back pocket and came up as empty as that bottle of Stoli I’d polished off just before I skedaddled out of her place when she got a call from her husband.
Okay, reaching under my raincoat to pay the man, I may have felt a little warm-cheeked when realized I left my wallet there on her dresser … where my pants still lay folded oh so neatly.
©Joseph Hesch 2012
This week’s little story is written in response to Lillie McFerrin’s Five-Sentence Fiction prompt “Blush.”