Fiction: An Admission
The ice at the bottom of the whisky tumbler clattered as he replaced it on the table, the sound cutting at his conscience. He told himself bitterly that it was only after the event that he seemed to have acquired one - a conscience. His insistent inner voice had been pestering him for nearly two weeks until, finally, he had dredged up the courage to admit what he had done. Or, more truthfully, what he had as good as done. A number of cliches had come to mind. Look before you leap. Try before you buy ( no, not that ). The grass is always greener … Well, at least you know … ( yeah, that’s better … an oldie but a not-so-goodie ). With a sudden snap he twisted the top off the bottle he now held in his hand and began to pour. In his peripheral vision he sensed the minut...
