Savannah.

I stayed in a dodgy motel just outside the historic district. The motel was in a horrible sixties maybe seventies style building. When it got dark I left to walk into the historic district and got some food. I had spicy prawns, they could have done with more garlic and some chillies to pep them up some, give them the kick they could deliver, the way I remembered her to prepare them. Afterwards I sat in a bar and got drunk, some pretty girls passed by. The waitress was one of them and when I fumbled my phone again she came up and told me that she had the same one and that it was a great phone and that she was lucky to have it.
The phone was alright I thought, what bugged me about it was the way you had to set the alarm, it was inconvenient. But there was always something that wasn't the way you wanted it with whatever it was you got.
I had liked the way she had been preparing the prawns, there were things I hadn't liked about her though, there must have been, otherwise why would I have called it quits?
I couldn't remember any of them now, maybe there wasn't anything that I hadn't liked, maybe it was the two of us together and the way we were that I hadn't liked. Or not liked any longer, because I hadn't liked myself at the time. It was hard to tell now, I was in a bar that was filling up in Savannah, I ordered another beer and tried to forget reason.

© Marcus Bastel