Who: Frank, Danny What: random encounter between strangers When: July 1, evening Where: a local bar Rating: PG-13 for language Status: complete
Someone on the train was having trouble with their colon. Danny turned up the volume on her music player, tried to focus on the lyrics, on the thoughts of the other commuters, but the battle was already lost. Irritable Bowel Man was lodged in her brain, worrying about noisy flatulence.
His buttock-clenching technique must be working out all right for him, Danny thought, because she wasn't hearing any tell-tale toots, and oh god, really? Did she have to get caught up in this like some lower than the lowest common denominator reality TV show?
Oh, and now she could smell it. It was one thing when you suspected somebody was cracking one off, she thought, but this guy's misery was front and center in her mind, making her miserable by proxy. It was too much. They both fled at the next stop, he to the nearest men's room, and she to the nearest watering hole.
Danny settled herself on a bar stool, feet propped up on the rungs, and fixed a world-weary gaze on the bartender.
"Whiskey, please. Might as well make it a double."