thirty one
“excuse me, you can’t drink here.”
i lowered the bottle of liquor to the ground,
“why not?”
the blonde stared at me as if i had just asked her the world’s most ridiculous question,
“because this is a cemetery,” she snapped,
“and you’re sitting on my best friends grave!”
i quirked an eyebrow at the tall blonde,
“you know, knew, aspen?” she crossed her arms across her chest and narrowed her blue eyes,
“did you?”
the blonde scoffed, “didn’t i just say my best friend’s grave?”
i didn’t reply right away,
“right.”
“you never answered my question,” she said as she lowered herself onto the green grass.
i shrugged and lifted the bottle to my lips, “it doesn’t matter,” pause, “not anymore.”
YOU ARE READING
Memories of Aspen
Short Story"Because memories of Aspen were all I had left." *Spin-off to Forgetting Roman*
