The girl leans into to the bar and quietly asks, “Can I get a Jack and Coke?” As the Bartender begins to make it- “Can you make that a Jack and Ginger?” He starts again. “I’m sorry. Can you make that a Jameson and Ginger? With a lime?” The Bartender looks at her. She has tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. That’s it. I swear.”
The girl twirls a straw around her finger and stares at an empty spot on the floor. She exchanges money for her drink and then moves down the rowdy row of revelers to an empty seat. And a man.
“Hey,” the man says. The girl says, “Hey.” And then silence – the din of the bar surrounds them. “What about all your stuff?”
“I’ll get it sometime.”
Then they drink. They look at the floor. They look at the neon sign on the wall. They look anywhere but at each other.
Later outside the bar, the girl unlocks her bicycle. The man walks up and takes her hand – their fingers familiarly finding the perfect entwinement. The bike lock swings open and the girl lets go, gets on her bike and pedals off.
