Just Give Her Something to Say

Andy Whistler woke up to a loud thunk against his door followed by silence. He opened it and found Meagan, her nostril bleeding a crimson line that trickled over her and was poised to drip from her chin. She smiled and laughed that uneasy laugh that screamed "take me back" but he just let her in. Meagan spent her days sitting Indian style, cradling wine and twiddling packs of cigarettes and was better off as on the sidelines than running with the bulls. Steel blue eyes, the same size she and we all had as babies, that even in such a stupefying state of drug and drink, told him of her confusion.

He wiped her nose and let her in.