I don't think she meant to show off so much cleavage, although in a time and place where science posits an infinite number of universes, everything is, quite literally, possible. The shirt she wore as she worked behind the bar was a trifle too tight, meant to accentuate her feminine assets--which it did, at the expense of also showing off the slight tummy she had from, perhaps, one too many shift drinks. I had come into the bar alone, killing time, dulling the pain of its incessant tick; and as it happened, the lone vacant seat at the copper-clad bar was situated so that, if I looked straight ahead, hunched over my beer, my line of sight was directly in her cleavage as she bent her blonde curls down to wash the glasses. I glance occasionally, so as to be appreciative, but not so much as to be impolite.
Alcohol jars the memory. Rewind. I am on the train, in the dining car, a beer cool and soothing in my hand, the snow resting fitfully on the countryside beyond the window. I look up and
Yes, please, one more of the same.
Her hair is piled up in dark masses, I reach up and take off the clip, and the tresses fall like coiled ink in the already dark room, our faces so close. Kisses in a rush, she bites--the metallic taste of blood-laced peppermint. Can--? Should--? My leg trails off the bed and I bang my knee hard on the wooden frame. Pain is weakness leaving the body, said a man to me once. My hand slides, her hip grasped firmly, and I
Oh, don't worry, the lights are always screwy like this. Either that, or Dave's in the back playing with the dimmer switch. She grins, and I smile back.
Parking lot. I kiss her. Too briefly.
And I--
Blood on the floor tiles, slipped in the shower, water like rain, red swirling, help help help, should we-- call an ambulance, call--
I shake my head, and the present is back again. Her curls swing as she cocks her head at me and a questioning eyebrow at the ceiling. No. This is the last for me tonight, girly. Thank you, though. I wrench my coat around me, and stagger out. I drive home slowly. My roommate is watching football. Cold out? he asks. You have no idea, I say.