The sound of the door closing wrenched him from his drunken slumber and into the crushing reality of consciousness. He groaned, the sour smell of cheap beer and bad sex clinging to him like a film. Blearily he reached for his glasses and instead found a note written in crisp lettering:
“Hopefully see you tonight?”
Reviving the 55 Word Challenge from my old Storiesmania days. Prompt was “Hope that follows Despair”, by T-.
Discarded Recollections 