Writerly Wednesday: Somebody pinch me (flash fiction)

His head pounding like five million samba dancers were dancing out a complicated dosa nueve in his head, he rolled over to see Molder, his basset hound gazing back sympathetically, nose on paws, paws on floor, five inches from his own swollen nose. 

Apparently, falling for someone isn't a good idea when they leave you precisely where you land. He wondered, as he put a hand over his eyes to block out any stray rays that came from the low shuttered windows, what had happened to the girl, the one with green hair who had said that she was a leprechaun. Ordinarily he liked brunettes, brown eyes, smooth tan skin, but something about the girl with bright green hair who didn't seem to realize that t shirts didn't go with tutus had suited his mood, or maybe it was because it was St. Patricks day and he was feeling festive. 

She'd walked up to him at the party in her lucky charms T and bright green tutu skirt with reflective four leaf clovers attached, then jabbed his chest with her pointer finger while her bright green eyes narrowed at him. 

"You aren't wearing green. You're the only person here who isn't wearing the protective color of spring and life."

He'd given her what he thought was a flirtatious grin. "So pinch me." 

She cocked her head to the side, then began to smile, a smile that made her bright green eyes even brighter. 

"I'm not really the pinching type," she'd said suddenly, and he felt the need to puff up his chest a little bit more. "What kind of animal would you prefer?"

The sudden change of topic made him rub his chin in confusion, but the smile was still there, still disturbingly attractive. 

"I have a bassett hound," he'd said, hoping that was a cool, very guy thing to have. 

"If you don't wear green then you're not protected from the leprechauns," she said, apparently making an art of jumping from subject to subject. "Some of them pinch, some of them bite, and some of them..." she smiled again, then pulled him close to her, moving in time to the music as it throbbed, the beat bouncing through his head as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Some of them like me, prefer something more interesting," she whispered with her lips at his ear. 

Then, she whispered other words, words he couldn't quite understand but her breath, cold and tantalizing, surrounded his ear, the soft cadences of her syllables lulling him into a dreamy, blurry state that ended with him alone with Molder, and the party definitely over.

I lifted my head, so did Molder. 

I turned my head to look across the room; so did Molder.

I reached out to scratch his ears, but my hand stopped at the glass, the same glass Molder was scratching at on the other side of the window, no, not window, mirror. I lifted my head, the mournful howl echoing strangely back at me, blending with laughter and an almost voice that seemed to say,

"See you next year."