Water Spots
By Syd Sylvester
Remember? The Regular at the bar flagged me down and sent you a drink. “Her choice, on me,” he winked.
“Manhattan,” you said to me, the sheepish messenger. You never once returned The Regular’s gaze. As I reached for a lowball, you grabbed my arm, procuring a glass from your purse.
“You brought your own?” I laughed.
“Unless I clean them myself, they’re never clean enough.”
Though your sharp eyes are now clouded with age, you still insist on washing our glassware by hand. Our dance goes:
“Look clean?”
“By my standards or yours?” I ask.
You smile, dazzling me.
🩷🩷🩷
Syd Sylvester is a copywriter born and raised in New York City with a passion for short stories, microfiction, romance and (oddly enough) horror. She’s written for the satirical women’s publication Reductress and was a finalist in the 2023 NYC Midnight Screenplay Contest.
