Thoughts flow through Wendy’s mind like a river. A constant flow of analyzation and creation. This is why she’s not surprised to find she’s thrown up and passed out on the floor of a bar bathroom.

When she goes out to drink, she’s not out to have a good time. She’s out to turn it off and make it all go away. If she drinks enough, thinking stops. Another part of her brain takes over, and she just goes with it.

She didn’t expect to end up here in this bar tonight. She had been quite content drinking at the bar across the street. She would have been content drinking at home. Any option would have been preferable to her current situation.

This isn’t a crazy thought though. The crazy thing would be thinking a woman would prefer having blood on her hands. Which is exactly the thought that runs through Wendy’s mind while scraping a flake of dried blood off of her finger nail.

Disappearing immediately after her arrival Wendy is now seated at a stool on the shorter side of the L shaped bar. He watched her emerge from the bathroom and gawked at her as she made her way towards the door.

He was blown away by the concept of someone spending sixty minutes in a bar restroom only to leave with out speaking a word or ordering a drink. “Who on earth would be crazy enough….” he mumbled to himself.

His internal dialogue was interrupted as she rounded the corner of the bar. Plopping down she closed his mouth when she locked eyes with him. Just as he was bout to open his mouth again, his attempt at speech was halted by a second chime of the bell as four kids came laughing into the bar.

Running towards stools, two kids quickly took control of the sound system while the others shouted out their requests. Wendy observed as he popped the tops off four bottles before combining fluid from two different bottles and three lemon slices into a shaker with ice.

He locked eyes with Wendy again as he poured the icey concoction into four sugar rimmed shot glasses. Stocked with beverages, the kids make their way to the pool table near the restrooms.

Nick breaks eye contact with Wendy to watch the kids slam their shots before picking pool sticks and partners. As he watches the taller boy pat the pretty girl on the back side with his pool stick, his gaze shifts back towards Wendy, whose gaze hasn’t moved.

Eyes locking again, they stare at each other. Finally Wendy asks for a drink. He watches as she shoots the brown liquor and sips the black ale. She continues to sit there, sipping the dark liquid, climbing back into the rabbit hole of her mind.

image Laura Elizabeth

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