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Chelsie Bryant | Word Riot
Short Stories | August 16, 2012

Dead in the Head by Chelsie Bryant

He winked at me when I went in Big Boy. He was at a booth near the kitchen in the back, slouched down, chin up, watching me walk. He winked and spit, pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. Then with a grunt like a whistle he burned me with it, between my thumb and pointer. I thought he had a fucking ashtray—thought he was going to reach for it, say sorry. Like a movie, hold my hand. I’m sorry. I deserved that much. But then there was a sudden weight stinging my skin, a yelp. People