Last at the Bar
We’re both at a show, and it’s loud, loud like I’m-going-to-be-regretting-it-tomorrow loud. The band is…meh? They’re fine. They’re from Wisconsin. They’re loud. They’re whatever.
By now most of the people who came to the show either left, are still in the crowd but clearly regretting it, or they, like us, went straight to the bar at some point in the last hour. You and I have been eyeing each other for that last hour. Slowly our friend groups dwindled away, and it’s pretty much me at one end of the bar, you at the other.
You wouldn’t hear me if I said anything, so I wave from across the bar. You wave back and smile a big and beautiful smile that sinks into me like a hook. You motion me over with this kind of cowgirl mosey on over thing. I’m hooked, so I do.