She Seems Like an Angel

She seemed like angel, waking up in my New York Nick's jersey, covering her lower regions. She started sucking on a red vine, and said, "What are we doing today." It was totally not like that. She had long black hair in a pony tail and she walked around my apartment like only gravity held her down. This was not the case.

Gravity held me down. I was hungover; I had met her at a glorified bar the night before, and I had not remembered bringing her home. She seemed almost at home, strutting all over my kitchen, looking in the refrigerator for food I definitely did not have.

"So what do you want to do today," she asked

I couldn't come to a decision, so I suggested, "Breakfast?"

We drove to a horrible iHopish diner, that served the usual eggs and bacon. We got started on a conversation that derived into small talk.

I drove her home after breakfast.