First Line of the Week-I didn’t want this day to begin.

I didn’t want this day to begin. -All Russians Love Birch Trees by Olga Grjasnowa

Ugh, what time IS it? Yes, too early, pulling the pillow over his head. I must have left the bar, but don’t remember. I didn’t even get her phone number. Maybe it was all a dream? Tightening the edges of the pillow to shut out the morning light, his mind went over last evening’s events.  

The Blooming Rose, it was named, the bar he’d heard about from water cooler talk at the office. The guys mentioned how you could find a lot of interesting people there. Jack’s curiosity was piqued. How could this place be any different than hundreds of other bars in the city? Of course he had to check it out. Being single, under thirty, and anxious to see anything new and exciting, he had nothing to lose.  

After telling his secretary he’d be in late the next day, he took a cab to the Blooming Rose. When he arrived, it was a lot different than he imagined. The outside was in need of paint and repair, and the surrounding businesses were similar.  He hesitated and turned to find the cab had already left, so decided to enter the establishment.

Once through the door, he was surprised to see a lively crowd, subdued lighting, and an inviting atmosphere. He felt instantly comfortable and sat himself down at the bar. Jack had about three drinks, he couldn’t remember exactly, when he was approached by a raven haired woman. Her presence seemed to mesmerize Jack, although it could also have been the affect of alcohol on an empty stomach. He really didn’t care, this woman was beautiful and seemed interested. Women were hard to please he’d found. Open the door for them and they seemed insulted, offer to pay for dinner and they think you expect more than a kiss goodnight. Listening to them speak on end about their experiences and they think you’re a dolt. Never has it been so difficult to just have a drink and some fun.

The woman was dressed all in red. A not too low cut dress that fit her shapely figure well. Red heels and red lipstick perfectly applied, completed the look. And what a look. Jack felt like he was dreaming. She introduced herself and they had a few more drinks together.  

By this time Jack was in no shape to hope anything would happen, or be clear enough in his intentions to ask to see her again. He called for the cab to pick him up. That’s the last thing he remembered. The rest of the night was a blur. She must have come and stayed a while. The only evidence was the lipstick on his sheets. So she must have been here. Why didn’t I get her number? I don’t even know her last name! Looking at the clock again he decided to get his head under a cool shower.


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