Seattle Hotel Bar — sasha weiss
The bartender took pity, passing over a handle of tequila instead of the three shots the girls had ordered. Spring break looked different under orange skies. And drinking brought a different flavor of respite, escape not from the mundane workweek but the mundane burning. Each takes a sip, passing the bottle back and forth, scrolling through Netflix looking for something to take the pain away. The phone rings, concerned. A brief connection, patchy video relaying questions like “didn’t they give you an extension?” and “when can you go home?” End call. I stare into the phone's broken crystal ball, then out the window into city darkness wishing that it could swallow distance or fires. My sister, thousands of miles away, finishes the bottle.
sasha weiss is a writer, artist, and gardener who lives in indiana with their wife, demon dog, and a bunch of house plants. they've got chapbooks published by or forthcoming from Blanket Sea Press, Bottlecap Press, and Querencia Press.
