flash-fiction

Your Name Again

It was a curious experience for Philip Marsh Friday Night when the room began to sway, the colorful decorations and lights blurred, and a thick tongue slurred his speech. It was curious to those around him too, his measured bearing, low-key amiability, suddenly so far out on a jag as to hardly know him. Tonight at the Gala fundraising event, everyone who knew him also knew, in his many years as a public relations man, Philip attended a lot of community events and never did he drink to excess.
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