I am very shy, but when you scooted over to sit next to me, I felt super tingly. I really liked how your skin hung off your skull like boiled cabbage, and the way your lipstick was smeared across your noodle-thin lips. By the glow of the Christmas lights festooning the bar, it made your mouth look like a really friendly knife wound.

Do you remember me? I told you I liked dogs, and had one back home, and you told me that dogs are better than people. You caressed my inner-wrist while you told me you got Buddy after your husband died of cancer, and that you'd been with your husband four whole years before ever going to bed with him. Your fingers were cold, and you smelled a little like whisky, and excrement and between telling me about Buddy and your husband and how young people do nothing but fuck, you downed a shot of booze and exhaled, and it sounded like a strong wind passing through chimes made out of link sausage.

All I could say was "Ha, ha, ha" before you could tell me about how you never regretted not going to bed with your husband when you were younger, your boyfriend came back with Buddy. Your boyfriend looked very young for someone so fat, and balding, and shaped like a ham, and he wedged himself between us, his back to me. I returned to my drink, while you soothed your boyfriend by sneaking the sensual claw that had been stroking my the soft part of my forearm up, up the back of his shirt like a spider.

I finished my drink and before I left, you ran your tongue over yellow teeth peeping out from behind that gash under your nose. And winked with eyelids so transparent, I could almost make out your eyeball underneath. Like a lizard.

I have short brown hair, and glasses and I told you my name.