I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...
“Cover?” Darren texted. But no response came.
Darren splashed his face with water, descended in the elevator, and stepped into the frigid night. After a short walk, he spied, between an orthodontics office and a vacant retail shop, a misplaced two-story house with a rainbow flag hanging between the centermost Ionic columns.
A grizzled young man stood in the foyer.
“Five dollars,” he drawled.
Darren wanted to walk away. Instead, he opted for an eye roll and forked over the five.
He sat beside Chris, the only other person at the bar.
“Tequila!” Chris proclaimed.
“What the hell is this?” Darren asked.
The approaching bartender remarked disdainfully, “A converted funeral home.”
