Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Guinness

This is the last one, at least, for tonight. In a crowded and humid pub, I sat dizzy and waiting for my pint to settle. It's not dark enough, I thought to myself. It's moving, swimming around in the glass. With my chin on the table, I sat staring into the dark pint shaped orb. The creamy bubbly head slowly slid down the sides daring to hit the table. I had the mind to snatch the glass and catch the dripping goodness with my mouth. I knew that was not the proper thing to do.
I could myself back there in that pub a year ago. It was just my demons and me alone in a city of strange people with pretentious customs. I tried. I did my best to blend in. I spent nights searching the Internet for tips on observing the culture of this city. No matter how much I tried to do as the locals did, I was still met with the same stare. Stares from strangers who foolishly thought they knew everything about me.
I gulped as much as I could before I could feel myself forgetting to breath. After placing the pint gently on the table, I patted the corners of my mouth with a napkin. You might say I tried to reclaim some standard of lady likeness. If I’m going to wait all night for her, I need to keep it together.

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