The Mistake

“Misleading!” Avery cried again. Several men in stiff woolen suits could only peer down, choking back laughter with serious expressions. Hands on hips, gazes rounding over kitchen stoves, fluorescent lighting; basically, appearing busy. They listened intently without making eye contact. She sat, huddled posture, blanket covered, teeth chattering like Tic Tacs tumbling around their plastic container.

Where? Mostly-empty Italian restaurant.

When? Near closing time.

What?? Quite simply, her story contained three elements: sexual frustration, absence of pride, and a far too expensive vintage Merlot.


All eyes turned finally at our fallen lady:

“The sign ‘Meat Locker’,” speaking slowly, “should be clarified.”