• Eddie Fogler


After circling the pool, Maureen plopped down on the last lounge chair she could find. The chemical blue water twinkled as the sun slowly peeked over the rooftops. The night was officially over; the fourth one of the week that Isaac didn’t return home during.

Throwing on a pair of sunglasses, Maureen kicked off her flip-flops and relaxed back into the chair. Isaac was the one who insisted they move, pitching the usual crap that a change in scenery would do them good. Now here she was in a town cluttered with nameless faces: his vision of good for her.

Had she known a month ago that prostitution was legal in this city, she never would have agreed. They would have been forced to confront each other if they were still trapped together in their farm. Wandering off into the fields was more bearable than him wandering into different sheets. Isaac had been so cliché too, claiming his first couple weeks that he had to work late or pull all-nighters. His excuses stopped when she found a little card in his pocket: Sanaumi Hyugen – Call for Companionship. Who knew escorts had professionally done business cards.

Maureen shuffled through her bag and pulled out one of the bottles: the Riesling. She was hoping for the Rosé, but the Riesling was still a good starting point. She twisted off the cap, placed the bottle to her lips, and took a big gulp. She could already feel the sweetness start to rehydrate her soul. Happy freaking birthday, Maureen.

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