Last night, the girl wrote her phone number on a napkin and stuffed it brazenly into his pants pocket before sauntering out of the bar. He couldn’t remember the reason she couldn’t just text it to him , but it had seemed like a good idea at the time, and he hadn’t been complaining.
In the piercing light of day, he waited for his hangover to pass enough to read it. He spread the cheap paper out on the bedside table.
‘I poisoned your drink. Call this number within twelve hours if you want to live.’
He sighed. Every damn time.

“Abstract White Crumpled Napkin Folds Pattern” by shaire productions is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Everyday Drabbles © 2025 by Hugh J. O’Donnell is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0