It would be nice to go out
“I suppose it’s unhealthy to drink alone,” I say, swirling the Moscato, watching the wine slide up the crystalline sides. “But as long as this bar doesn’t open at ten. I still want to be in bed at a decent hour.”
“Baltimore! Yes,” she exclaims. “I’ll be there to pick you up at eight. Enjoy that pizza, get out of your pajamas, and don’t pass out before I get there.”
I laugh and end the call.
When the pizza arrives, I eat two slices straight from the box without getting a plate. I can practically hear my mother scolding me, heathen.
I also remember my ex in his baby blue workout shirt, all those muscles, his hair mussed and that damn kale in his basket.
Time for more wine.
I tell myself it’s because drinks are too expensive at the bar. Better to get drunk be
