ligeia

Speak XIII

With that 550 dollars, she hopped a train north to check
out the latest night rides. Telephone wires strung out
like so many expired cobwebs. Waterfalls of shadows
flooding the cracked buildings, and diverted by neon
lights.

Blink. On. Blink. "The Moth's Nest" (should be in italics)

She entered and was greeted by blacklights and strobes. It
was living. She stood against the wall. A martini in
hand, accented by a cherry. 15 minutes. The stem still in
her mouth.

And there he was, that son of a bitch. Glaring at her with
a smile. Daring her to deny his existance. She downed the
rest of her martini and crossed her arms, returning his
smile.

"Line," she whispered. And to him it was silence spoken by
her mouth.

"Shade," he replied. He walked out. She didn't follow.