Her mouth twisted in jagged lines, chin and cheeks fractured in the reflection.
Seven years bad luck. It’s already been eight.
Elaine raised her glass to her lips. Ice cubes rattled against the crystal and rainbows glinted off the beveled squares that wrapped around the tumbler. She drew in a mouthful of bitter, honey-colored liquid.
The last dregs drained, she swiveled on her stool and marched across the dim room. Stale air swirled around her and dust particles danced away.
Yellow light streamed through the open door. She pulled it shut behind her, sealing memories with the darkness.
Photo prompt & featured image: © Liz Young
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The above is my 98-word fictional story. Each week, writers are offered a photo prompt, from which we are challenged to write a complete story, in 100 words or less. Then we post, share, comment and critique with dozens of other writers. Click the blue frog button to find more stories, and join in!