Mack smarted from his latest rejection. He had scraped the barrel bottom. The girls in his haunts all knew him much too well.
After a night of bourbon-soaked soul searching, he recalled a blissful interlude of a few years ago: Matilda, shapely, stylish, quick witted. Why had they drifted apart? OK. So she’d moved eight hours away. He’d drive over, just show up, knock her off her feet.
Sharply dressed, combed, cologned, a little tired, he knocked. The door opened. Glances crossed, and they both knew.
“Why is he here? He’ll never change.”
“Why did I come? She’ll never change.”
After a night of bourbon-soaked soul searching, he recalled a blissful interlude of a few years ago: Matilda, shapely, stylish, quick witted. Why had they drifted apart? OK. So she’d moved eight hours away. He’d drive over, just show up, knock her off her feet.
Sharply dressed, combed, cologned, a little tired, he knocked. The door opened. Glances crossed, and they both knew.
“Why is he here? He’ll never change.”
“Why did I come? She’ll never change.”
