Groupies

by Sarah Priscus

I leaned over one of her bookshelves, scanning the titles and wondering why she needed two copies of Lady Oracle.

It was foolish to forget other people could feel, but I still did it. I was twenty-three and always a little drunk.

Kitty sighed. “I wish he’d mentioned it earlier. I’m already having dinner.” I looked at the paper dish she was poking her fingers into. “That’s just a bowl of Ruffles.” Her voice raised in defense. “Well, I put chili flakes on them.”

if Charlie Manson had happened upon me when I was young and crying, I probably would have believed him, too.