What are you reading?
I lifted my eyes to meet hers.
I could tell by the way she deliberately leaned over the bar to place my glass of designer vodka Just So that she wanted a large tip. You learn quite early on in life not to look down a stranger’s shirt when she entices you to do so. You learn later on that there’s no practical reason to do that anyway.
Nothing. See? I showed her, because even I didn’t really believe me. For the past two weeks, I had been coming here every Tuesday after work to sip expensive vodka and sit and stare at one particular blank page in a book of blank pages.
She smiled awkwardly and sorta went away (because why would she not?). I went back to my blank page.
………………..
She returned to my side of the bar.
Here, she said. Write something meaningful and important.
I lifted my eyes to take the pen from her hand. She smiled in a meaningful and important way this time, maybe, and then went away again. I thought for a moment before pressing pen to blank page.
The ink was blue. Like her eyes.
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