It’s finally here. Not just Friday, but Kelly’s First Page Blogfest. Make sure you head over and check out the awesome list of writers signed up to share their first pages with you. Here’s mine.
The sky is a blanket, grey and wet, no comfort at all against the wind that blows just enough to send the unseasonable chill bone deep.
December in Florida isn’t supposed to be like this. Nothing is supposed to be like this.
He shivers and shrugs himself deeper into his jacket in the face of the wind, picks up his pace as he turns the corner.
The street is empty and so is the sidewalk as he catches his reflection in a storefront window.
It’s been a while since he’s been here. He’s not even sure it’s still open. But he’d left the base early without much thought to where he was going, just running on empty.
Not because it was Friday, but because his apartment windows had been dark when he'd pulled up to the curb in front of his building and sat watching the first tendrils of fog roll in.
He’s pretty sure it’s better to be empty and cold outside than empty and cold in the front room, the kitchen, the bedroom.
He finds what he’s looking for and pushes through the door.
The bar is empty except for a couple of guys shooting a half-assed game of pool under a big screen. The bartender looks up from washing glasses and gives him a half-nod as he makes his way to a back booth.
“Hi, I’m Theresa.” The waitress materializes at the table, paints on a cut-glass smile. “Can I get you something to drink?”
He settles deeper in his seat, tilts his head. “You got Sam Adams?”
She flicks bored eyes toward the screen at the roar of the crowd. “Bottle or draft?”
She spins on her heel and bounces off toward the bar.