“You don't have to leave,” she said, before he could leave. “Stay. If you want to.”
Jim turned halfway back from his original stool, his coat over his forearm.
“Sorry I was such a bitch,” Ingrid said, appearing contrite. “Come back.”
“Why,” he asked, raising his chin.
“Because,” she said, turning from his reflection in the mirror to his actual face, “after this drink, I´m going up to my room, and I don't want to be alone.”
3940 words (MF)
Cover Art by Emilee Lord
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