Sarah Limeria
I'm standing at the bar where we agreed to meet, leaning against it, facing the front entrance. The lighting is low, the music loud, and the atmosphere is heavy with rustic vibes and lust. You're late, and I'm annoyed, so I decide to take the extra time to observe the other patrons.
One's nursing a complex cocktail, probably looking for something to remind him of better days. He's wearing a worn blazer and jeans with blown out knees. His stubble looks like he hasn't shaved in about a week, and the way he holds himself says breakup or lost job.
A couple in the back corner where the light is lowest are making out. They're probably on their third date, if the bottle of good wine on their table is any indication.
There's a rough lookin group of guys and girls in the booth near the entrance, sporting punkish styles and leather jackets, laughing over beers and mozzarella sticks. Probably a bike club outing. It's clear they're having fun.
There's a bunch of people on the dance floor, grinding and swaying, clearly enjoying themselves, and others too along with the electronic music blaring through the bar.
There's a pair of men in what seems to be expensive suits sipping at tumblers of whiskey while gesticulating at each other. Probably trying to work out a business deal.
Finally, I just barely hear the door open, and you walk in. I watch you closely as you approach. When you finally reach me, I just glare at you, even as I slightly smile.
One's nursing a complex cocktail, probably looking for something to remind him of better days. He's wearing a worn blazer and jeans with blown out knees. His stubble looks like he hasn't shaved in about a week, and the way he holds himself says breakup or lost job.
A couple in the back corner where the light is lowest are making out. They're probably on their third date, if the bottle of good wine on their table is any indication.
There's a rough lookin group of guys and girls in the booth near the entrance, sporting punkish styles and leather jackets, laughing over beers and mozzarella sticks. Probably a bike club outing. It's clear they're having fun.
There's a bunch of people on the dance floor, grinding and swaying, clearly enjoying themselves, and others too along with the electronic music blaring through the bar.
There's a pair of men in what seems to be expensive suits sipping at tumblers of whiskey while gesticulating at each other. Probably trying to work out a business deal.
Finally, I just barely hear the door open, and you walk in. I watch you closely as you approach. When you finally reach me, I just glare at you, even as I slightly smile.
Finally. Hour, right? Do you know how late you are? I've been waiting here for 15 minutes. What took you so long?
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