FalloutLustoutm
New member
- Oct 9, 2010
- 2
- 0
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I wrote this in the last ten minutes, so don't be to harsh.
The ends of my hair smell of alcohol, the expensive kind that tastes sour on my lips. I sit in the corner of the bathroom stall, my warm, sticky fingers encircle the plastic of a bright red cup. I slosh my arms lightly around in the air like the wings of a bird, and the clear liquid slips over the rim and down my bare skin, past my elbow.
The place is empty, not a soul in sight; I wobble in the high heels that adorn my feet as I stumble my way to the parking lot, spilling what's left of my vodka on my clothes which reek of cigarettes.
The ends of my hair smell of alcohol, the expensive kind that tastes sour on my lips. I sit in the corner of the bathroom stall, my warm, sticky fingers encircle the plastic of a bright red cup. I slosh my arms lightly around in the air like the wings of a bird, and the clear liquid slips over the rim and down my bare skin, past my elbow.
The place is empty, not a soul in sight; I wobble in the high heels that adorn my feet as I stumble my way to the parking lot, spilling what's left of my vodka on my clothes which reek of cigarettes.