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The Substack Third Anniversary Story

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

A Note: This isn’t particularly a “special” story for my anniversary. I wanted to write an authentic one, as I always try to. Thanks for being part of 3 years with me on Substack. If you could invite your friends to a treasury of short fiction for just five bucks a month that would be wonderful, and help me keep going to four years.

Gratefully,

Jimmy

The smell of coffee was the only thing familiar, and she knew she hadn’t made coffee.

The sheets didn’t look particularly clean.

There was dread, but it was a semi-familiar dread.

She was in a single man’s room. She’d bet her life on it, and currently breathing, she was glad to be alive, and not yet-not quite yet hungover.

Her crotch, her memory, nothing felt as though it had been sexual.

Her jeans were still on.

Her phone on the floor was dead.