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It wasn't a hard choice. The diner across the street was blaring The Big Twang and I'd hated the group ever since my ex had joined the band. It was raining so hard, I was beginning to 'melt' and needed shelter. (At least that's how I preferred to refer to the chemical reaction between water and sugar.) Plus, they were playing Abba and I'd always had a soft spot for Dancing Queen being the Sugar Plum Princess.

Out of the rain, I stretched my wings spilling colored sugar on the floor and settled at the bar. The monthly molting was becoming a serious pain. Barry, as I later learned his name was, raised a hoof in my direction. Feeling bad for the guy, I smiled back. He'd slopped most of his drink on the floor, his snout not really fitting into the glass well. Drinking problems in these parts were all too common. Accessible glassware really needed to be considered. I shuttered at thinking what kind of germs were carried on the bottom of his hooves and decided I would not order anything to eat.

Looking around the dim room, I saw the waitress putting her hands up in protest as a dragon. was crossing his heart and then, well his bottom. Barry kept snickering. "What's that all about?" I asked daintily.

"Cross my heart and promise not to fart," he said, neighing loudly and slapping his hoof against the bar in a very Mr. Ed sort of way. I opted not to pay attention to any of them and signaled the barkeep.

He had dark hair that curled just above his eye, rippling muscles deep enough to reflect light in little waves of ooh-la-la, and a great cape to compliment the whole package. My wings fluttered when he looked in my direction. In an instant, he was in front of me. "Hi there sweetness," he said softly. "What can I get for you?"

My wings fluttered a little quicker. "How about a nice glass of plum wine to start with." He looked me over in a way that made me feel I had nothing on. I blushed. He winked and returned with a bottle and two glasses.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***