by Shawn Klimek
sloe gin, at high speed
Her dress was askew. Her hair looked like a tumbleweed flattened by a truck.
She had slipped down off her seat and was groping drunkenly for the dashboard.Goodbye, my lush, I thought bitterly. I’m leaving you.
We had both been drinking, but tomorrow —as usual, only I would remember.As I prepared to leave, my heart ached and it got harder to breathe. I still loved her.
Then I saw a puddle pooling at her feet, staining her skirt.To hell with this, I decided.
Taking a deep breath, I kicked out a window and swam for the surface.
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