It was incredible how quickly life changed. One day you were editor of a powerful fashion magazine, the next you were waiting tables at Red Robin, trying to make enough money to cover rent and still afford food. Que sera.
It had been another day of too few tips and too many screaming kids, and she was over it. Dinner would be drunk tonight, a luxury she probably couldn't afford but didn't care at the moment. The bar she'd chosen was quiet and laid back and somewhat greasy. It was the complete opposite kind of place she would have chosen a year ago. But tonight it was exactly what she needed. Sipping on something sweet, fruity, and with enough booze that it could double as paint thinner, Sabrina scanned the job ads on Craigslist, hoping something better than waitressing would turn up.
The room was warm enough to dampen her skin, prompting her to tug the black t-shirt up and over her head. Balled up and shoved in her purse, the overstretched woman glanced that the tv, contemplating the little men running around the screen, chasing after a tiny pixelated ball. Feeling a bit cooler in just the blue satin cami that had been under the shirt, she took another sip of her drink.
It was starting to work it's magic. With every swallow, her anxiety lessened, leaving behind a fuzzy, tingly feeling that could be mistaken for contentment if she didn't look too closely. It had been a long time since she had been this low. She'd lost her job, her son had been sent to live with his father because she could barely support herself anymore, let alone a teenager. She'd had a taste of love again and then he'd vanished as soon as she'd let him in. Fuck... she had to stop thinking about that. She was not going to start crying in the middle of a bar over a man. Who the hell did that? Running a hand through caramel hair that she'd chopped short a few weeks ago, the rest of her drink soon vanished as well. Signaling to the bar tender for another, her sea blue eyes scanned the few occupants of pub, considering what to do with the rest of her evening. So far none of them screamed "one night stand material", but you never knew.
Traitorously, thoughts turned to her ex. It had been years since they'd been face to face, and they didn't really communicate anymore beyond negotiating weekends with their son. They'd been young when they'd met. Young and a bit dumb. And his family... well, she'd been happy to get out when she had. Still, there was always going to be that question of "what if"... The second drink arrived, accompanied by a friendly smile from the not-bad-looking bar tender. She returned the smile, and nibbled the slice of pineapple that had been wedged to the rim of the glass like an afterthought. Closing her eyes for a moment, she took another drink. Another glass, maybe two, and for a few hours, none of this would matter anymore.
SABRA
I'm Hell on Heels, Say What You Will
@[Klaudius]