Yes, 'tis I. I have returned to read drabbles and not bother to write any of my own.

And I just caught up in Bitches. t hug Welcome home, Prodigal Cow.

So....are people hating this week's drabble topic? I can change it.

No, it just showed up late in the day. I'm mulling my tummy.

Mmm, mulled wine ...

I skipped. I skimmed. And all I have to say is, Susan rooooocks.

Hey, PC!

t feels all flattered and pleased

Not hating it. I just have an emotionally knotted tum, so I'm not tackling it until it untangles itself.

Hey, Cow - welcome back.

Where do the Pennies Go?

You were just tasting the penny. Maybe comparing the taste of copper with how blood is described in books as to how it tastes when you suck the finger you just cut. It happens.

Thinking about copper and things, and the penny slips further back--then down.

You swallow in surprise. And it's too late.

Not choking, not in pain. But ... there's a penny in your stomach. Tell someone? What could they do?

You remember swallowed gum--ok, and that pebble when you were really little. Never seen again.

But is there a pile of stuff in the bottom of your stomach? If you listened, would you hear a clink?

I wasn’t late, but Tommy was way ahead of me. Fifteen minutes went by. I picked at some toast. He was eating stuff that I couldn’t face till much later in the day.
“Ugh...just looking at that I feel my arteries occluding.” Bacon, sausage, the usual suspects.

The place was a dump. Not fifties retro, actual fifties, from when the motels and motor lodges around here were for tourists, not people looking for whatever kind of...gratification they could find in an anonymous room for an hour...the place across the street still proudly advertised its airconditioning in blue letters with painted white “frost” on them, which around here these days strikes me like saying “Indoor plumbing inside!” but must have been quite a draw back when.
“Tommy, if you wow this guy with atmosphere, he might not take us seriously.” The white Formica on my table had a greyish tinge. I pondered the millions of cigarettes and hamburgers that brought about this development and felt time pressing in on me for a minute or two. I shivered and I didn’t know why.

“So, you’re a dietician now, too. And one of those decorator gals.” He was feeling testy cause he couldn’t smoke.He’d quit the previous month, and though he was past the physical urges, the emotional pull and the pull of habit was very strong.

“This guy’s probably like you...seen too many movies. He might think this *is* atmosphere."

”Have some juice at least...cut the grease.”I urged him.

“All that’s keeping me together is the grease. I thought you knew.
” But I noticed he asked for a large oj anyway. But it’s against the rules of our relationship to mention it.

“Tommy, what if Pam heard you talk like that?” Ok, so maybe I didn’t feel good about Pam any more, but she always put a goofy soft look on her dad’s face that I wondered if any man ever had about me. I doubted it very seriously. Even my client who tracked me down through downtown Phoenix seemed to consider an appointment with me a suggestion. And I took a personal day for this;lied and implied some kind of personal situation so nobody would ask too many questions. The lie made my heart beat faster and filled me with both pleasure and shame, the residues of both still pulsing in my chest. No wonder I couldn’t eat.

Beverly, insent...I found a way to share AND keep my promise. I hope you like it.

Got it erika. I may not have a chance to give it any real attention tonight though. I'll try. And thanks!