Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is the Doctrine’s weakly contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.
Hosted by Denise, subject to the Rule of Six.
Previously, in our SSC&B story...
Prompt Word:
ENTRY
“Want a Xanax?”
I kept my eyes on the dashboard, my feet on the floor mats and my head in the reassuring embrace of a 35 mph wind coming in from the front passenger-side window; my mind, well like the owner of an excitable puppy bouncing off the entry gate of a safely-fenced dog park, I unclipped the leash and let him run.
“What? I believe in a well-stocked medicine cabinet and my business partner is a major underworld crime boss, I could take you to the hospital but all they’ll do there is pump you full of sedatives, put you in a room that’s nothing but soft, well-rounded corners and have a social worker talk to you like a child; or you can close your eyes and pretend you’re a college sophomore.”
I took a chance and turned in my seat to look at Diane Tierney, being extra careful to focus on her face and avoid the motion-blurred scenery that was, unfortunately, for my present mental state, an essential element in automobile travel; damn I was high.
Her face was as beautiful as always, framed in brown hair that always managed to be an essential element in her communication style; a turn of her head was accompanied by a slow wave of hair from one side to the other, every bit the placing of a hand on the forearm of the person you’re trying to persuade; her lips, as delicately sculpted as if daring the world to ignore the sensuality they outlined, her eyes… her eyes were brown most of the time, slightly-hooded and was the essential point-of-entry for anyone with a heartbeat, a life-force and a desire to become, if only for a moment, immortal.
Did I mention how high I still was?