Champagne. Stuff of magic.
I watch people file into the club through my flute – second of the night, already half-empty. Is it the amount of bubbly I’ve drunk, is it the way the bubbles distort my vision? I don’t know. But for a moment, I see my life with a stranger’s eyes, I see a train wreck in slow motion, I see nothing but emptiness.
I empty my flute to fill this void, exchange it for a full one, clink glasses with anybody who’s somebody and smile like I mean it. Night in, night out.
Stuff of magic, champagne.
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Inspired by this, btw: https://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2015/07/31/flash-friday-vol-3-34/
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I got a sense from the narrator of a longing for a different life while reading this. Very good indeed.
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Yes, I don’t think she’s happy. Thank you, Francesca, glad you enjoyed it!
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So beautiful!
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Thank you 🙂
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🙂
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