half-tipsy and smelling like three ashtrays. with a big trophy with too many sharpish corners, a stack of manila envelopes, and a portable microphone/karaoke case. i tried to get out of the cab, haul everything from across the sidewalk into the building, heading towards the lift.
there is that alcohol-induced smile i had, greeting the guard and for once the person manning the post wasn't grumpy. it's almost two in the morning and i have my shift in a few hours. but a few hours of sleep is enough. it's good. it's taken me throughout the day.
"i'm not an errand boy, myke," i said before i left the bar, twenty minutes earlier. i don't think i believe myself when i said that, either.
2 comments:
haha, a bar that served drinks in inconveniently shaped trophies.
no it wasn't that. but that seems like a good idea.
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