Page 7

Microsoft Word - 2014_Great_American_Fiction_Contest-Auld_Lang_Syne-by_Stephen_G_Eoannou.docx

worked in both. Instrumental Christmas carols were softly playing when Griff entered the restaurant and he immediately recognized the 101 Strings Orchestra; Val owned all their holiday CDs and started playing them even before the radio stations did. Martinelli’s was small with only a dozen tables covered with red tablecloths. A single green candle and a bud vase of holly set in the middle of each; all the tables were empty. One wall of the old restaurant was of exposed brick; gas logs burned in the fireplace in the center of it. The mantle was covered with evergreen boughs and poinsettias, their leaves a flaming red. The bar, too, was small, with just six stools. Two men, the only customers in the restaurant, sat there, an empty spot between them. The bartender set a wine glass in front of each man. He then uncorked a bottle of wine and set it aside, letting it breathe. “The kitchen’s closed,” the bartender said, as Griff approached, brushing the snow from his shoulders. “I sent the cook and waitresses home because of the storm.” “I’d just like a beer,” Griff said. He slid on the last stool and nodded at the other two men. He touched his coat, making sure the envelope was still in his inside pocket. Maybe he’d spend a little of the money on a Christmas present for Val, nothing too extravagant — maybe an antique locket or a bracelet


Microsoft Word - 2014_Great_American_Fiction_Contest-Auld_Lang_Syne-by_Stephen_G_Eoannou.docx
To see the actual publication please follow the link above