Three | Drink Debt

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As a child, I used to spend hours playing in the old oak tree that stood at the edge of our royal gardens.

Its branches reached out like welcoming arms, and its leaves whispered secrets in the breeze.

One particular afternoon, I remember climbing up to my favorite perch, a sturdy branch that offered a perfect view of the surrounding countryside.

With the warmth of the sun on my face and the rustle of leaves in my ears, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, as if the tree itself was a guardian, protecting me from the troubles of the world below.

It was moments like these that made me believe in magic, in the simple beauty of life, and in the possibility of finding peace in unexpected places.

- Azzy


Chapter Three: Drink Debt


The Midnight Brew was a hug of warmth and tranquility among the bustling chaos of New York City.

As I sat in a cozy corner booth, holding a steaming cup of coffee, the memories of childhood afternoons spent in the embrace of an old oak tree flooded my mind.

The dimly lit interior of the cafe with hues of deep red enveloped me like a familiar embrace, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of serenity wash over me.

Despite the lively ambiance, a sense of anticipation gnawed at me, tinged with a hint of nervousness.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I realized it was time to head to the bar for a much-needed shot of whiskey.

Pushing myself up from the cozy booth, I straightened my dress and made my way across the room, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans following me like a comforting companion.

As I approached the polished wooden bar, I caught the eye of the barista, a friendly young man with a head of curls.

"Shot of whiskey, please," I requested, trying to inject some figure of confidence into my soft voice.

"Sure thing," he replied with a smile, reaching for a bottle from the shelf behind him. "You want me to put it on your tab?"

I froze, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

My wallet.

I had left it back at the hotel.

As someone who never has to worry about carrying funds—and every little charge being handled for me, I didn't attempt to remember it as I rushed to escape my hotel room.

"Actually," I began, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, "I seem to have forgotten my wallet."

The barista's smile faltered slightly, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. "No worries," he said, his tone sympathetic. "Happens to the best of us. Just settle up whenever you can."

Defeat sunk in me, knowing that I would officially have to involve someone back at the hotel.

If Antonio were here, he'd joke and say I was in drink debt.

A sigh fell from my lips, determining that I didn't think this all through.

"Put hers on my tab."

The soft voice was intimidating yet inviting, easily catching my attention.

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