“Say my name.”
George stared at her dumbfounded by the demand. Say her name; he thought that was what he had been doing all night.
“Say my name, dammit.”
She stared from across the table, steam rising from the coffee mug mingling with smoke from her cigarette. After a long minute without a single word, she stabbed her half-smoked cigarette out in the overflowing crystal ashtray, her hand shaking. Rising from the table, she dumped her coffee into the filthy sink and made her way down the narrow hall leaving George staring after her, twenty minutes later she returned dressed.
She stood before him a lost sadness in her eyes, before picking up the heavy ashtray and with precision hitting him squarely across the bridge of the nose. She watched as his nose flattened and his eyes swelled shut.
“Are you mental?”
“No, but my name is Rose.”
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