I have been reading old stories and this one was like picking a scab. I still like how it is written however, so I thought I would share
I have a short story to relate to you, about a pool game. It was not a very long game, but it lasted much longer than the time it will take you to read these words, and in fact may still be happening now.
It was in a local dive that this exchange took place, on a billiards table with red felt. It was a rainy saturday late in the afternoon, and the woman’s boots squeaked on the wood floor as she retrieved accoutrements from the bar. She wore dirty jeans, a black T-shirt, and a damp leather jacket that she removed before racking the balls. She walks with her head high and her strides long, looking neither left nor right as she passes the other…
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