Saturday, April 25, 2009

Excerpt: Saturnday's 1-liner

Everyone descended on the church’s basement for punch and cookies. Halfway down the stairs, Julian felt a sick, little wave of deja vous—a sea of patent leather shoes; floral dresses and forced conversations; the slick hair of men who last night bet on horses and staggered home.

But when she reached for a mug to fill, Natalie gave her a little elbow. “Dip down to the bottom,” adding in a whisper, “That’s where the rum swims.”