a narrow escape
The last time I saw skin wrapped in the old flannel robe it was dull early light. Tonight she suggested some mental enrichment before bed. We were drinking doubles like inspired maniacs. I sliced open the last lime and stared at the robe belt dangling by her velvety feet. And I admit it, my downfall occurred suddenly. Initially I tried hiding my tears but one cannot hide such potency. Damp and disengaged, I moved the red piece on the checkerboard. Like a bounty hunter systematically slaughtering his prey I struck with eloquent quickness. The squeaking leather upholstery played a soft minor key. Her coarse cry still clings to my dusty flannel.