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March 11, 2008

Tuesday

The Ritz.

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"Let it go, honey!"
"Let it go? You realize how much I paid for this thing?"
"Of course I do. I balance the checkbook, remember?"
"But, caviar on this? Why not spray-on cheese?"
He flung the cracker. It made a meek dirtclod impact.
"It'll be okay. No one noticed."
"They noticed. We won't even recoup the hotel fees for the room. Forget the food bank."
She rubbed his back.
"Let's just go back out there. You'll make them generous; always do."
His shoulders dropped. She felt his muscles tremble.
He sighed and grabbed his jacket, she her champagne flute.

Posted by: Mark Lybrand at March 11, 2008 7:34 AM · Permalink