her name was probably gretchen

she loved the night because that was when all the best people came out.

she was one of those ‘youcancallme’ girls – ‘you can call me cindy’, ‘you can call me sky’, ‘you can call me suzanna’, like she was giving them permission to enter her twisted little world. she had more names than she had fingers and toes and she could never decide which was her favorite but that didn’t matter because she never kept one for very long.

her eyes were a bottomless black, lined in ink and shrouded in lashes that smeared when she cried [maybe that’s why she only ever cried crocodile tears] and her lips were the color of blood. sometimes she still sucked her thumb.

she had her eye on a someone now, a someone with beautiful blond hair and bright blue eyes and an overconfident smile. he was on his third beer [she’d been counting] and she had on her strappy high heels and her reddest lipstick and her prettiest smile, and once she decided the time was right she slinked her way across the bar to him.

“hi stranger,” she purred. “you can call me jenny.”


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