The Name of the Game Is Resilience

This story was awarded bronze for Trifecta 112, so I decided to tart up the post a bit with the editors' glowing review here : ) Thanks again, Tri!

"Rounding out our top three is the ever fabulous Kymm in Barcelona who gave us The Name of the Game is Resilience.  In the comments, someone likened the piece to a Tarantino film, and that seems a pretty appropriate fit.  When a writer has such command of the language that she can take risks such as these, you tend to get a really good read."

Jeanine and her makeover walked into a bar. The door shushed behind her, propelled her across the entryway. Via the doorjamb, standing speaker, barstool and pillar, she felt her way to the first empty table, grabbed the back of a chair with both hands and held on. ‘Get your bearings, Jeanine,’ she heard Chrissie’s voice admonish, and Chrissie was right, of course. The chair Jeanine clutched was facing the wall. The wall would never delight in her low-cut blouse and expensive haircut. Jeanine sidled over to the next chair, using the backs as a safety rope. When she heard a chorus of laughter break out at the far end of the bar, she made sure to place her rump squarely in the seat before satisfying her curiosity. College kids. Oh! Callooh! Callay! In her direct line of vision, she now noticed the couple - clipped from a spread in a fashion magazine - who were utterly absorbed in chewing each others’ tongues off. Jeanine tried to look away, but there was that wall again.

‘Get up and go sit at the bar,’ Chrissie’s voice hollered.

‘I will not get up now that I’ve sat down,’ Jeanine thought petulantly. ‘Barkeep!’ she thought emphatically. She tried raising her finger, but the barista was directly behind the tongueboarding couple Jeanine found impossible to avoid. She knew, she just knew, at some point they would turn to stare at her with slack-jawed expressions and one of them would drawl: ‘You’re pathetic, Jeanine.’

Jeanine shook her head. She cut Chrissie off: ‘I know, I know, I’m projecting. If I’m ever to vanquish this funk, that attitude has got to go.’

The door opened and in walked a cowboy, a doctor and a millionaire. Jeanine straightened her necklace. He was surely none of those, yet his shaggy brown hair and bomber jacket were aiming directly for Jeanine’s table. Jeanine’s makeover smiled. Jeanine held her breath as he stopped, grasped one of the chairs and asked: ‘Is this seat taken?’

333 words for , including FUNK (noun) 3 :  SLUMP  an economic funk;  the team went into a funk