Recovery
“Hi darling,” the young man giggled, noticing a pretty woman leaning towards him. “Which one are you?”
The woman left in disgust. Two men cloaked in white entered.
“Nasty blow to your head,” one confirmed in a heavy accent following something vocalized by the other. “You remember anything?”
“Molly’s. I left Molly’s. Might’ve been O’Hara’s,” the patient prattled. “Didn’t see Molly.”
The two towering over his bed exchanged words.
“When can I leave?” the patient interjected. “Molly is waiting for me. Best beer on the house.”
“You’re in Spain, recovering from an all-nighter at an Irish Pub,” explained the doctor.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction regardless of the season, although she prefers spring.
Please support the site by purchasing one of my books on Amazon. Check out Quitting The Grave, a murder mystery set on the Oregon Trail. Plus, don't forget my other books: They Both Loved Vonnegut, Ahab's Adventures in Wonderland, and Picasso Painted Dinosaurs.