trouble with allergies

Monica came into work late this evening, hair hanging down over her left eye. “A new look?” I asked. “No,” she said. “Just allergies.” I left it alone. The bar was busy. Usual Monday Night Football crowd. Monica got right to it. Pouring beers. Mixing drinks. Fielding unwanted advances. Franklin, one of our regulars, asked what happened to her face. “Just allergies,” she said. “That don’t look like allergies to me.” Monica repositioned her bangs and went back to work. After close, I decided it was finally time to say something. “Is everything okay at home?” I said. “Just allergies.”

 

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