I’ll Pass

Stewart walked down Hope Street, depleted and his eyes like sandbags after a long day as a front desk coordinator. He wanted to read, but as he tried, his head inflamed, as though someone spilled hot coffee over his brain. Some sleep, he thought, maybe if–

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned.

“A shot in the dark,” a woman said, her face besmirched with a hairy mole, and her lips smeared with an opaque lipstick, its piercing red more necessary than Stewart thought, “but would you like to go see a movie with me.”

He forced a smile. “Umm…I’m flattered, but I’ll pass; guess I am coming up with a flu.”

“Really?” She tilt her head, shrugging. “Your loss.”

“Thank God,” he said, with a sigh of relief, turning to his direction, hoping she will not follow him.

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