Blue Label

Ingrid Acosta

The bed’s vibrating.

That was the first thing that went through my head, the strangeness of it all cutting through my state of grogginess. After feeling the vibrations a couple more times, I realized that it was my phone ringing in the dead of the night.

As I did not dare to open my eyes, I groped around for the damned electronic device until my hand rested on a familiar rectangular shape.

I tightened my hold, and slowly took a peek at it. A single name was being flashed on the screen, in time with the vibrations.

I pressed the call button, and raised the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”, I managed to croak.

“It’s about Micah. Can I come over?”

I gave a disgruntled response, as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. A glance to the analog at my bedside table showed that it was two fourteen.

“Give me five minutes, okay?” Then I hung up.


The door swung open to reveal Mark. His hair was in a tangled mess, glasses were perched precariously on top of his nose bridge and shadows were under his eyes.

“You look terrible.” He glowered at me, as I gave him a once over. He stopped in front of the foyer’s square mirror and ran a hand through his hair. It remained unruly as before.

“Come on,” I dragged him towards the kitchen, where a bottle of Absolut Vodka stood waiting on the countertop. I pushed it towards him.

“Go make drinks.”


We found ourselves out on the porch, both nursing drinks. The wind blew, and I snuggled into the jacket he lent me.

“Thanks for everything Jill. I really appreciate it.”

I snorted. “As if. You’re just thankful for the alcohol.”

“No. It’s not just that.” He put down his glass and placed his hand on the post, near where my shoulder was. The thump thumping of my heart began to speed up, as he inched closer. Is he going to...?

And then he stopped moving, choosing to stare at some point a few inches to the side of my head.

He cleared his throat. “I should be going.”

I nodded.

He carried the glasses and the back inside, and bid me farewell. He promised to call and zoomed out of the house, all in under a minute. I locked all the doors in his wake.

Back in the kitchen, I threw out the bottle of vodka. The remaining one fourth of it be damned. Almost automatically, I crossed over to the other side, and withdrew from a shelf an unopened bottle. I placed it inside the fridge, sat with his folded jacket on my lap, and waited.