Micro Fiction - A Story In 99 Words



The Angel’s Share

I have woken up with a stinking hangover.  I call over to my friend, Muriel, who is sitting on the floor but clinging to a chair.

“Why do we keep doing it?”  I ask.

“It always seems like a good idea at the time, it’s a privilege to be here.  They expect us to drink it, Gabriel.”

I knew she was right, being asked to go to the whisky distillery was a privilege and the ‘angel’s share’ had to be consumed, it was a tradition.  

But these mornings never got any easier and somehow we never learn our lesson.

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