Flashed!
Copyright© 2011 by Marc Nobbs
Mixed Grill
Jim stood in the entrance and breathed in deeply the countless familiar smells of the bar—the cigar and cigarette smoke, the steak sizzling on a griddle, the beer soaked carpet, and the stale sweat. It had been so long, he'd almost forgotten what they were truly like.
He quickly found a table and ordered the meal he'd been waiting for the last six years, a mixed grill with salad and chips, all drowning in ketchup and malt vinegar, accompanied by a pitcher of ice cold beer.
Freedom smelt good. It tasted even better.
He'd dealt with items one and two on his list—time for number three. He scanned the room and saw her standing at the bar. Tall, blonde, well built—just his type. She'd be perfect. He sauntered over.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
"Vodka. Thanks." Her voice was husky, her smile predatory. He could almost taste the cigarettes on her breath.
"I'm Jim."
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