Short Story #04: Chelsea

“May I join you?”

Alberon, who was nursing his second whiskey with his head resting in a propped hand, looked up at the young lady and snapped to attention, spilling his drink. She had a pale, softly triangular face, accented with scarlet lipstick, and framed by curly dark hair that fell around the thin straps of her blue dress, leading down to a pair of knee-length boots.

She laughed at the long pause. “So may I?”

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