Rachel goes to the club

Rachel was downtown for a drink at a jazz lounge, the circular extolling a new singer in town for the weekend. She stayed for the whole set, one drink turning into another, plus a third on the house, "lady three" as it went, if she inquired.
The lights were out when she got home, except a candle, something Erica brought back from Mexico, the light flickering from a suspended enclosure, floral and less faintly of detergent than she liked. She put the candle out and went upstairs to bed. Erica's door was open. Rachel could see her asleep on the bed, no music simpering as in the custom of her girlhood years. Rachel brushed her teeth in the bathroom, unlit, and heading to her room thought to drink a glass of water to avoid an ill morning, going downstairs to the kitchen.
Erica had put up the leftovers and washed the dishes. Rachel got a glass from the cupboard along with a tub of soluble fiber, rotated the filter on the tap, filled the glass, found a spoon, stirred fiber into the water, took a mouthful to test her stomach, and finished the glass and half of another, rinsed everything and placed it in the strainer and went back up to bed.

The End

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