Short Stories
Drinks on Me
Outside, my phone buzzed relentlessly. Text after frantic text, voicemail apologies that spiraled from remorseful confusion into wounded indignation. Later, I heard the bar staff had asked her to leave: "We don’t serve people like that," they’d said, taking pity on me by proxy.
The Neighbourhood Watcher
I was polite but clear. "I appreciate it, but I’m not interested. Just moved, settling in, not looking to complicate things." I figured that would be enough. It wasn’t.
The Sleepover
Then one night, she asked if she could stay over. Not a big deal on its own, but definitely out of character. It was a weeknight, and she usually treated those as off-limits. Her boundary, not mine. But I liked that she asked. I said yes.