Doe noticed his left thumb rubbing where the ring finger met the palm, while his right hand inched up her thigh.
She didn’t care.
He wasn’t going home with her. But she’d get a few drinks out of him before slipping away. Probably pretty soon. He wasn’t her type. Drank scotch, and made a show of it. Talked too fast and sat too close. Kept his back to the front of the bar, face in the shadows.
She wondered what his wife looked like. If she’d wait up for him, or pretend to be asleep or not pretend at all.
A Bunch of Dumb Words in a Row 