The cigarette puffs of the dwellers cover the cozy, brown accent of the bar. A familiar 80s jazz sound echoes from the music box as if to soothe me. I fidget my fingers as you pour vodka on a clear glass and serve it to me. I part my lips to speak, but your manager beats me to it. “You’re off.”
A little girl rushes to you. You raise her up and kiss her nose. The lady behind her beams at you, but it turns flat when she sees me.
You meet my gaze and lock it over yours. “It was nice to see you.”
WORD COUNT: 105
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