One.
Nothing like that first drink. When it hits your belly. That splash of fire. The ease of tension. The lift of mood. The day, hard or easy, behind you. Don’t stint on that first. Get off to a good start. Attaboy.
Two.
What’s good just got better. Now it’s what you’d call a buzz. I’m feeling it. And it feels real nice.
Three.
Third time’s the charm. Netflix is fine, but let’s put this good feeling to use. Let’s do something. Go somewhere. But honestly, whatever I do, I’m caring less and less what it is, where I go.
Four.
Good god, that woman is beautiful. She’s been sitting there for the better part of an hour. How the hell hadn’t I noticed?
Five.
Maybe I should go talk to her?
Six.
Last time I checked I was an introvert. Last time I checked was before that last drink. My opinions are coming freely. Open and impassioned. Some of them aren’t even my opinions. I guess I’m just in that sharing kind of mood. Whatever comes to mind. Reservations be damned.
Seven.
She just may be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Oh, her too. And her.
Eight.
And him. Him too. I’ve never had a sweet tooth but I am a sucker for eye candy. Wait, him? Well, that’s new.
Nine.
Where did she go? Wait… where did I go? I mean, where am I? I think hard. Thinking is just about useless now, but I manage to recall the cab ride. Then I laugh. I recognize my home. Silly bastard.
Ten.
The night is ending whether I will it or no. The curtain is falling. Two curtains. My eyelids. The night is over. The fat lady has sung. Not that I really recall. Now she’s asleep on my bed. I never did catch her name. And him, beside her. Guess I’ll find out at breakfast.
No room for me on that overcrowded bed. My bed. Oh, well. The way the room is spinning it could be the linoleum and I’d still be snoring within the minute. There. I’ve made it to the couch. Now I count sheep. I don’t even think I made it to ten.
***
Favorite Drink: Manhattan
***
James Callan grew up in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He lives on the Kāpiti Coast, New Zealand on a small farm with his wife, Rachel, and his little boy, Finn. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Bridge Eight, White Wall Review, Beyond Queer Words, Millennial Pulp Magazine and elsewhere.
***
image: MM Kaufman
Rejection Letters 