Gash

The morning after, I asked her if she remembered the night.
She stared at me with dead eyes and a blank look on her face.
I asked her again, “Do you remember what you said to me
before I left the bedroom?” She didn’t. I remember that night
vividly. The words spewed from her lips as the dense smell of
alcohol infiltrated my nostrils. They penetrated me like a dull
blade, and stuck inside for far too long.

It was a cold New England night, the kind that leaves you
chilled to the bone from the damp air. I was “home” from
college and had to stay at my mom’s for the weekend.
My friend dropped me off on his way south.

He drove away.
My heart sank.
I’m stuck here.

….