I’m playing with a weekly writing challenge. The challenge is to write exactly (no more, no less) one hundred words every Sunday in 2013. Here is this week’s offering:
In the mirror behind the bar, the face was like water ravaged stone. He watched himself pick up the tumbler. The last sip trickling down his throat; a wildfire in a desert. It pushed him another quarter inch closer to true midnight.
The glass lowered itself mechanically back to the concrete topped bar.
There she was beckoning Jim over. Her long hair the color of muskrat.This bar was too bright for its own good.
Her voice reminded him of wine pouring into a crystal glass; delicate and inviting. Jim shook his head making her smile fade and her face crumple.