Closing Time
by faintnaomi
· 27/12/2025
Published 27/12/2025 14:59
The glass is there before I am.
He doesn’t ask.
It feels less like a drink
and more like a refill
on a prescription I forgot to call in.
On the dark wood,
a puddle of spilled pilsner
catches the blue flicker of the news.
A tiny, trembling screen
on the mahogany.
When I lift the weight,
a corner of the cardboard coaster
stays behind,
stuck to the bottom
like a piece of wet skin.