A Fleeing Pharaoh

Posted: May 2, 2013 in Uncategorized

He walked out the door, slammed it shut. Didn’t hear her cry on the other side. Just heard a few loud words his grandmother told him not to use, something heavy hitting the floor. A phone book? A stomped foot? Whatever. Didn’t matter. His heart was racing, his face bright red, and he just briskly walked toward the elevator, put his headphones on and his hooded sweatshirt up and rode the box down to the ground floor. Walked out of the building and tried to think about anything besides “how dare she.” She asked him when the last time was that he couldn’t have something he wanted, and realized that right now was one of those times, but screw her. He was going to go find the closest bar in this city, take a stool, order two whiskeys neat and keep to himself. He didn’t want to talk to anybody. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to look at it, figuring it must be her with more to say. It wasn’t. That just made him angrier because he could have maybe handled that, but it was just one of his dumb friends. He popped the back of the phone off, removed and pocketed the battery, and downed the first whiskey.

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