She sat in her seat at her regular bar. It was a long week and she needed a drink. Her weary eyes watch as the night unfolds, and she sips her whisky; it tasted like loneliness. A tailored suit walked up to the bar. He flashed her an expensive smile and slid onto the stool next to hers. She leaned over and hated herself for smiling beneath drunk eyes. He cocked an eyebrow and smirked. She pictured herself getting up and leaving, but who was she kidding. She nods toward the bartender in that, I’ll-pay-my-tab-tomorrow, type of way, and finished her beer.

She wrote her address on a napkin, slid it down the bar and walked away. Another night of meaningless sex had her eyes filling with tears. She blinked hard as she convinced herself that this will fill the emptiness in her soul. Deep down, she knows she’s wrong.