First Sight

by Ari Collins

I watched this strange young woman walk through Rick’s apartment like it was hers, ignoring partygoers, feeding her boogers to his pet rats, spilling her drink(s) on her nice dress. I tried to talk her up but it went either nowhere or elsewhere fast. She talked about “sexual welfare” without giving a single Indicator of Interest, then began tangenting about boysenberries and marathon dancing. She casually told me that she had to go tell someone their friend had died, and then she left.

I called around the next day but no one knew who she was. Her name was Grace or should’ve been.

Click here to go back to Ari’s Microfiction.

Or you could go a step further up to Ari’s Fiction.

Or all the way back to Air Theremin.

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