Some are More Equal than Others
Strands of blonde hair stuck against Adele’s wet cheeks, mixed with rivulets of running mascara. A cigarette burned between two fingers and her lips were never far from her rum and coke as she sat on the patio of the bar with Elizabeth.
“It never would have worked, I know that,” Adele sniffled, “He was just too different.”
“People work through their differences when they are in love.”
Adele grabbed her friend’s arm and looked directly into her eyes. “No. I mean different. Like physically.” She nodded for emphasis, then leaned in and whispered into her friend’s ear.
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Oh, my. You never told me that about him.”
“Well, it’s not something you talk about.” Adele looked away and shivered at a memory before inhaling the last of her drink. “I could never spend my life with someone who was so … odd. I know it’s shallow. I know it’s wrong. But I am who I am.”
Adele got up to leave, then looked back and slurred, “I’ll be alright,” before stumbling down the street, her long blonde monkey tail swishing around of its own accord from the bottom of her skirt.