Stories by David Liebig

Bill asked Mel if she had anything to drink around here. Like anything. Mel, from the bathroom, shouted, Yeah, like a a-third-a-bottle-of Smirnoff in the freezer—oh wait that’s what she and Stel used to make Bloodies yesterday. So, no? Bill asked. Mel, striding past him to wash hands in the kitchen sink, slurred, Did she look like she needed any more anything at this point?