Memory for Remedy

“Oh yeah, she’s good. She’s real good.” 

The voice raced into her ears, straight to the head.  She looked up from the TIME magazine grasped in one hand.  Her gaze, now distracted, dedicated to air, air which started to feel clustered and rushed. She took a sip from her nearly dry glass of red wine.  Her mind could not resist the venture. She pictured the haze in his eyes, the way his lips glazed over the disclosing words.

The conversation changed after a moment of stillness. One guy stood up and said goodnight to the rest. He walked into the room and stared at the woman.

What’s wrong? 

“Just thinking about work.”



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