I run the quietest bar on the coast, and I like it that way.
Three regulars on a good night. No conversation. No questions. The door locked on everything I don't let in.
Then they hire me a bartender I never asked for.
She talks to strangers. She sings while she works. She smiles at me like I'm a puzzle she's already decided to solve, and she will not stop.
I've spent thirty-three years keeping the space behind my bar empty. Keeping every space empty. It's safer when there's nothing anyone can walk off with.
But she's loud and warm and impossible, and somewhere between her ruining my garnish station and learning every secret I've got, she stopped being the help and started being the only thing I can't stop wanting.
I swore I'd never need anybody.
So why can't I make myself let her leave?
Three regulars on a good night. No conversation. No questions. The door locked on everything I don't let in.
Then they hire me a bartender I never asked for.
She talks to strangers. She sings while she works. She smiles at me like I'm a puzzle she's already decided to solve, and she will not stop.
I've spent thirty-three years keeping the space behind my bar empty. Keeping every space empty. It's safer when there's nothing anyone can walk off with.
But she's loud and warm and impossible, and somewhere between her ruining my garnish station and learning every secret I've got, she stopped being the help and started being the only thing I can't stop wanting.
I swore I'd never need anybody.
So why can't I make myself let her leave?
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