You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me Lucille

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

dale-rogerson-pizza

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The words of the old song were now becoming an ear worm that echoed within his emotionally damaged brain without end. Except her name was not Lucille and he didn’t have four hungry children and a crop in the field. But close. His hunger now filled by the need for more cocaine was making him wander dangerously in the fields of some very nasty figures. From mingling with the starts to eating pizza in a low rented hotel room all the result of chasing a beauty and her whims. Take me back country roads.