Last Call
Every small town has a dive bar where the drinks come cheap and the air tastes of regret. This was one of them. The first thing people noticed walking into the cramped space with its darkened windows was the stickiness. The floors, the cigarette-laced air, even its reputation seemed to cling to you. Neon signs gently lit the faces of a handful of usual suspects trying to escape their struggles for a moment. The jukebox filled the space with old songs of heartbreak.
But tonight would be different. At precisely 10:00 p.m., the door creaked open and the soft blue-lit faces of the remaining few turned as She walked in.
They didn’t know her name. They never would. But they’d remember Her... And so would He.
Her auburn hair curled loosely around delicate shoulders, framed by a light blue dress that hugged Her waist and fell just below Her knees. She was too polished for this place, too clean.
She quietly took the end seat at the bar.
He smiled. “Can I help you?” He asked, drying His hands after washing the last of the glassware.
“Vodka soda, please,” She said softly, Her green eyes scanning the room like She expected someone.
“Coming right up,” He said, already watching Her a bit too closely. “Want me to leave it open?”
“For now,” She replied, Her gaze settling back on the door She had just walked through.
He poured the drink stronger than most would. Then came the questions. Where was She from? What did She do? The usual small talk, served with confidence and charm.
She answered coyly, giving just enough to keep the conversation alive, but maintaining an air of mystery.
An hour passed. By now, He was no longer asking if She wanted another. He just poured as soon as Her glass dropped below a quarter full.
Finally, He asked the question burning in everyone’s mind.
“So what brings you in tonight? Were you meeting someone?”
Her polite smile faded. “I was supposed to be meeting someone. Blind date. My sister set it up. I honestly didn’t want to come, but she insisted. She’s always had terrible taste in men, so I can’t say I’m surprised he didn’t show.”
She turned slightly, Her sigh barely audible.
“Well,” He replied, “his loss is my gain. This next one’s on me.”
He slid another drink across the bar.
She smiled and thanked Him as She lifted the glass to Her lips, Her guard finally slipping just a bit.
The conversation deepened. Every joke He made drew out Her melodic laugh. He filled the air with easy charm, oozing confidence.
As the usual crowd drifted out the room grew still. By midnight, only two remained.
Him and Her.
He stretched and yawned, eyeing the clock.
“Midnight already. Cinderella better run before she turns back into a pumpkin.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You might want to brush up on your fairy tales. Cinderella didn’t turn into a pumpkin. That was the carriage.”
Her tone sharpened just a little. “Did you know that in the original version, one of the stepsisters cut off her toes to try and fit into the slipper?”
She reached into Her purse. “How about a shot for the road? Pour two. My treat.”
He smirked. “Can’t say I’m used to a girl buying me a drink. Usually it’s the other way around.”
“It’s the least I can do,” She replied coolly.
He chuckled and set two shot glasses on the bar.
“Seems you poured mine a little bigger,” She said, eyeing them. “I’ve been drinking all night. Here, trade with me. You probably need it more than I do.”
He gave a slight sigh. “Customer’s always right.”
She lifted Her glass. “To my sister. May she finally learn to have better taste in men.”
They clinked.
He drank.
She didn’t.
He offered with a grin, “Want me to walk you home? Once I lock up?”
She smiled again, slow and aloof. “Sure.”
But He didn’t make it to the till.
He stumbled, hands bracing on the bartop.
“Whoa,” He gasped.
She watched as He fell to His knees. The shot glass rolled off the edge and shattered.
“You don’t remember her, do you?” She asked, Her voice turning icy. “She was drunk. You said you’d walk her home. But you did more than that, didn't you?”
His eyes widened as She stood from Her stool and crossed behind the bar.
He tried to speak but only a rasp escaped.
She leaned down, just enough for Him to see Her eyes.
“My sister couldn’t get out of bed for months. In the end, I guess she found her escape. But I’ll always miss her.”
She didn’t blink as He let out one final, rattling breath.
She stood and sighed.
“It’s too bad she always had terrible taste in men.”