Photo Story: Through the Bottom of a Highball

It’s what we say when we can’t say anything in the dim lights, strong drinks, and vacant smiles. We are not here. She is not laughing. He is not touching her waist. I am not drinking to forget, but to remember, each greasy five and ten a ticket to what was and what will be again in the images buried under the smoke of the slivered china, her broken clasp, the slam of the screen door. It’s what we say when we can’t say anything, but she says everything through the bottom of my highball glass and everything’s a blur.

 

Riley Schultz loves sushi, her cat Blake, and playing fiddle in a folk band called The Matriarchs. She teaches high school English in northern Illinois.

Photo Credit: Jeremy Brooks

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