Today’s writing theme on a blog I follow was ‘One.’ I thought I could write about the Metallica song and its meaning or its origin. I thought I could write about the first Doctor, but I don’t really know his personality well enough to fanfic. (I came in at the 4th.) I thought I could write a story about a goalie or netminder since they wear one on the back of their jerseys, but all that seemed very uninspired, so I decided to write this instead.
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"What’s one more drink?" Steph wheedled. She held up the rum and coke and swirled the glass suggestively.
Mark sighed, “Okay, okay, just the one, then I have to get home and let the dogs out. I don’t need piddle carpet!”
She grinned, this way he wouldn’t miss midnight and she’d get her kiss in. Seriously, who wanted to leave before midnight anyway?
Half an hour to finish a drink, kiss a bunch of people; some taking more liberties than others, and then get on the road.
He was probably speeding a bit more than he should have been, but the dogs needed out. His reaction speed probably wasn’t what it should have been after one too many. His eyes, however, he swore, before he breathed into the device for the police officer, were fine. He just didn’t see the car coming across the four-way stop that he vowed he’d slowed down for even if he hadn’t quite stopped for.
He hadn’t seee the girl as his SUV had crumbled the driver’s side door halfway to the passenger’s side. Why did they have to build those things so flimsy anyway? The handcuffs the officer put on his were certainly made well enough.
Later, her mother told the papers, “If she had one bad habit.. it was driving late at night when she was plotting out short stories.”