A Real Howl
Yeast. Yeast and stale peppermint. Those were the smells that drifted up from the cracked window ledge. Paint peeled like old skin. Smoke and breath kissed the glass with tepid contempt as she flicked her cig, ash dripping into the teacup that reeked of last night’s beverages.
She stared with unseeing eyes through the glass. Would Suki remember her admission or had it died in a whorl of alcohol infused brain cells? She’d passed out shortly afterwards in a combination of drink and fear, curled in a drool stained patch on the floor.