When It Was Slow

Another installment of "Spanish Trace." Thanks for reading!

They also had cheap beer and a pretty, if somewhat heavy, waitress named Melody who sat and talked to me when it was slow. Melody was the girl in high school that you secretly slept with because she didn't look perfect enough to be your girlfriend, but she was plenty okay for screwing around. I had no doubt that she had suffered from this treatment all her life and that left her desperate enough to talk to me. I didn't mind. Many of my sexual encounters had been with women who had been depressed into having sex with me. So what? I'm not proud.

Anyway, that's the day that me and Melody got started. She told me that her daughter was staying with her daddy this weekend and did I want to come over? Just like that. I didn't know Melody had a daughter which was a definite strike against her, but who was I to judge? I didn't even have a divorce yet which was a definite strike against me. I thought she might be the best I could do for now so I went back to her place where her little girl was still waiting with the sitter for her daddy which really griped my ass because I did not want to be any part of that scene. The little girl kept doing these one-handed cartwheels all over the place and I'd held my breath, waiting for her to knock something over. She looked like she knew what she was doing, but the place was small and I didn't want to see everything come crashing down.

Michelle's Spell of the Day
“Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.” Dag Hammarskjold

Cocktail Hour
Drinking beer suggestion: Shinerbock Dark

Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Friday!