The blonde girl's laughter rose over fat drops that pelted the windows of the tiny room downtown. Weekends like this only came every six weeks.
“How do you like it?”
A blush covered the cheeks of the girl sprawled across the bed. Their longest-standing tradition: Hotel coffee.
Often vile, lake water clinging to the back of their throats, this packet came with an extra sugar sleeve. Expectations were unusually high. A cautious sip. Two instantaneous groans.
Lips part in question. Liquid eyes canvassing for an answer the other had never been so sure of.
“I’ll go get us real coffee.”
Jennifer Ledbury is a writer living in California.
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