The Girl

He walked over and sat on the bench. He slid down, slouched in his seat. Eyes red, stomach filled with alcohol, he slumped onto his side. He rolled onto his back and coughed with a hot blech from his bearded mouth. His face tingled, and his eyes grew heavy.

“Fuck…,” he said. He placed a hand on his chest. A burning heat coursed through his stomach, bubbling, and curdling.

“Hi there, mister,” a voice said. He looked around, turning his head to his right and seeing a small girl. “Hi, mister,” The girl said.

“Kid…,” he said. “Uh…hi.”

“Are you okay, mister?” the girl said. She placed a finger on her cheek while she used the other to twirl her curled pigtail.”

“Not dying, but not well, either,” he said. A throb reigned in his head, and he clutched the sides. “AH! It’s like accountants crunching numbers in my head!”

“Teehee. You’re funny, mister,” the girl said.