Short Stories, Poems, and Shit

Green tea and Cheep Whiskey

Nick

You saw her under street light, hair so bright your retinas were set ablaze by the blonde shine. Smoke tumbled out of her mouth like an upwards waterfall as she stomped out the butt of her cigarette. You begin to exscuse your self from the dinner you were having with Emily. And you start to make your way over to her and her stupidly blonde head. You get their before she turns away and doesn't return.
When she leans into you, and begins to pull you forward by your shirt, you notice smells like green tea and cheep whiskey.
Slightly you frowned.
     She's standing on tiptoes now, reaching for you as if you're a mountain, compared to her you might as well be. With her mouth reaches your ear you wonder if she even remembers your name. After all she seems to have drank, you highly doubted it.
She giggles. "Please don't tell mom." Her giggle was lightweight and carefree. People would never understand how a human with her life could laugh lighter then a feather.
"What do I not tell her?" You question, almost sarcastically. Her grip tightens slightly on your shoulders as to not lose her balence "The new hair, or the stupid hippie cigarettes?"
She tugs at your shirt meanly and you push her back as if she were 12. And she practically is-she's so young. And your tired. And you wonder what would Emily think if you walk out on your first date to take care  of your stupid, stupidly blonde, little sister.
But you don't care. And you pray Emily won't either.
Because you know Dads getting high for the umpteen time today. And Moms sprawled out like a ragdoll on the bedroom floor, trying to find an oasis in her newly desert of a vodka bottle.
So you do it. And you don't complain. Because she smells like green tea and cheep whiskey. And you care about her. And so dose she.
So you walk home. Her blonde hair now glowing in the moonlight. And you realize how cold it is. And you wish you hadn't forgotten your jacket.
So you walk a little faster. And she rebels by walking a but slower. Eventually you fall into a pattern with each other. The same steps. The same speed.
Because she smells like green tea and cheep whiskey.