The American Girl, by Guy Fletcher

(F.F.F. Website Story)

“This site is permanently closed,” is typed on the doorway of the pub. A very sad message.

I remember drinking alone here years ago reading Steppenwolf (pretentious, moi!), falling into the pages and somewhat intoxicated.

“He’s one of my favourite authors.”

A beautiful blonde American was addressing me. We talked, then caressed and she asked for my number.

I can never remember numbers but found it on a scrap of paper in my wallet. She left; I dropped the wallet, cards on the floor. There on another piece was my new number. Ah, I wonder if she ever phoned.


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