It was one of those nights again. The ones that make me do this. The pub owner knows my name by heart now. Not quite a good thing when I'm supposed to have the reputation of the smartest person in town. And here I am downing three glasses of whiskey. But who gives a damn anyway? I'm gonna wake up in some broad's house with my pants around my ankles and lipstick stains on my neck. I'm too tired to care right now. She's gone, she's not coming back, and I might as well just drink away my pain. Nothing else to live for. I clunk my head on the bar, feeling woozy and a headache starting to come on. The bell over the bar door jingles. Rosemary greets the guest cheerily, the bangles on her wrists and ankles jingling as she dances around behind the counter. Muffled voices reach through my foggy drunken haze but I don't care enough to try and decipher. Suddenly I feel a tug at my shoulder, and bright lights blind me as I'm lifted from my seat. I shield myself from the lights, hissing a bit at the exposure. The hand wrapped around my shoulder jiggles me a little and I can hear snapping in my ear. As my vision fades back into focus and the black dots start disappearing, I'm met with a familiar face. I look straight into her deep green eyes in shock, her orange lips mouthing something to me. Shaking my head, I squint my eyes and open them again, raising my hand to poke her cheek.
Yeah, she's real, I think to myself, Why did I have to check that?
I don't get an answer to that question as she slaps me. Hard. I'm jolted partway out of my drunkenness, stumbling away, nursing my new wound. I look at her dumbfounded and all she does is sit down and order a cider. I tentatively approach beside her and just sit. Staring. Eventually she turns to me with a glare, resting those ice cold evergreen eyes on me. Then my thoughts catch up to my drunkenly blurred gaze as I finally process what was so strange about seeing her here.
She's alive.
