Down at Baccy’s Bar, we got all sorts. But the short blonde
chick who came in every Monday and drank from opening to last drinks, she was
different. Even without her iron stomach.
It took her several weeks to get her talking, and even then
I had to start slipping her freebies to loosen her tongue. At first, all I
would get out of her was something about ‘always making it about others’,
occasionally muttering that she wanted it to be her turn once.
Then I found out she was Cupid.
I offered, but she played for the other team.
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