Disinterested

Disinterested

She had an air of quiet intelligence. She sat on her bar stool in the tightest red dress I’d ever seen, her amber eyes on her drink and a cigarette between her fingers. Each puff of smoke was the same as the next, each sip of her vodka exacting. She was good, real good, and I’d just drunk enough to tell her.

Her message was conveyed with a care I attributed to careful consideration. Of all the words in all the world, she chose two just for me. I appreciated that; she didn’t have to go the effort.

I left with my tail between my legs and her eyes burning a hole in my back.

What did she say, I hear you shout? What wonderful knowledge did those words impart? Let’s say, she was disinterested, and we won’t be chatting again.

Advertisements

22 thoughts on “Disinterested

  1. Two words huh… the obvious f*** off springs to mind but I’d like to have a little more fun;
    “I’m gay”
    “I’m FBI”
    “Got gonorrhoea?”
    “Woof woof”
    “Four hundred.”
    Oh I could go on all day!

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s