Creative Writing Exercise Day 1

Just a couple of old birds out at a bar, somewhere in New York. I stirred my cocktail slowly, ran my finger around the rim of its glass, stared ahead at the rows of spirits and syrups—none of them particularly expensive, unique, or noteworthy. Just your typical bar. The bell tied around the door handle jingles, and my old buddy Sam walks in. He's barely greyed, only if I look really hard can I spot a few hairs that are no longer black. It's still long and tied back in a half ponytail and he's wearing a long leather jacket.

He sits and orders something hard.

“Elliott, you shouldn't be here.” He says.

“Mon ami, it's been a while. Your posh suburbs life got you down?”

“Actually, I only come here for business anymore. Mine a bit, mostly my son's. We're still living on the other side of the country.”

“Yeah, I know.” By we he referred to his wife.

He scooted toward me, weight leaning over one of his long and still elegant legs which hung over the bar stool. My hand grasped the drink glass, however, rather than the glass at my lips, I found his lips come toward mine.

I'd been under the impression we would sit and chat it up: not of our tangled past but of the present: which I had no idea was so equally tangled. I felt weak, tired. It wasn't just the alcohol.

-Written Spring, 2012-

This work is copyright Malia Autio, 2012
This work was written from a Writer's Digest prompt: a night at a bar, something unexpected happens and a memorable night ensues. Thoughts? Comments? Be my guest.