The Prostitute You Never Paid
8 min readMay 3, 2018
She wasn’t your type, the redhead. She was the kind with fiery orange hair and flawless fair skin. On one of her photos she wore a tight flannel shirt, cut off to expose her midriff. I immediately thought of St- Patrick’s Day.
That’s the kind of redhead she was, the kind that takes your mind, well, mine anyway, to corned beef sandwiches and Guinness. I remember cocking my head. It was so unlike you.
