Tuesday, 22 October 2013

Last Call



I was putting away a clean tray of glasses when she staggered up to the bar.

“Whisky. Double. Straight.” came the order, in a voice that was clearly attempting to remain calm.

“A drink for someone with a heavy heart.” I observed as I poured it. She laughed without a trace of humor.

“Let’s just say that someone I cared about… Didn’t care about me.” she said bitterly, before downing the drink, shuddering at the taste. “Another, please.”

“Sorry to hear that…” I said as I poured again.

A bullet casing chose this moment to fall out of her purse.

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