From the short story, Holly Woods:
“I love that one.” I looked up and the woman in red was standing before me. Her chin lifted now, so I could see hazel eyes. Thirty-five years old at least, small and petite. Skinny as a rail. Her chest was flat and her dress seemed to allow air to flow in and out, over her skin, whichever way she moved. It hung low on her chest, offering a glimpse of the tops her breasts.
“I even bought a perfume that smelt the same way, here?”
She offered me her wrist, that was decorated in six gold and silver bracelets, some thicker and thinner than others. I took two steps to her and leaned over. I got a good whiff.
“It makes me hungry,” I laughed. Then realizing the sexual connotation.
“Well if you want, I can tell you where I got it. You can have your girlfriend get some. So, you don’t have to smell me.” She laughed and pushed her hat up. She held eye contact and gave me the smallest smile. Almost indifferent, one of another species going through the motions as if she mimicked me, a facade of a human.
You can read Holly Woods along with my collection of short stories, Girls Cigarettes & Illusions on Amazon.
