segue

: another mood to suppress


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Suddenly, A Memory
me?
segue
Laura is petite, which is half her charm. Going out to party
wasn't always a good idea, but it was her way to fit in. Or get sex.

A guy I've never met, tries to put a bottle to her lips. It might
have been her unfinished Bartle's and James', or his beer. He's about
twenty, she, 18, "Here, just a little bit. Come on..." Laura resists
as well as she can, considering she's wobbling while sitting down.
I guess. Hardly noticable, since she is petite.

"Leave her alone, she's at her limit."

He notices me, looks at her, and moves to put the bottle on her
lips. I have to block the bottle with my hand. This makes him switch
gears, "Why don't you go away, and I'll take care of her 'limit.'"

I move closer, "Why don't you stand up, and say that again?"

He thinks I'm bluffing, and stands up. The air is humid enough
without my trouble breathing his stink now. I notice the din goes away,
and the electronic-trance music is playing on that soon-to-be-extinct
station. Sensing this change in the 'atmosphere,' I have to casually
look around me. His buddies are looking at me like I'm a Freshman. So,
naturally, I continue the confrontation, "If you..." No, I stop.

My friends move closer to his friends. This is a good sign, meaning
my hands won't have to get any action. Not that he cares. Still, he
looks down at Laura, then at me, and steps lightly around me and the
crowd. He could've gone through the open kitchen. Guess we all need to
save some face.

'They' leave, the talking continues, and Laura is still there, with
her slow, beautiful eyes, not caring one or the other.


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Whoa. Sounds like a Bukowski story.

Based on true events. Well, 'true,' as I interpret them.

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