CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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ELLA HAD ALREADY LEFT, and Mark felt at odds. He didn’t know what to do with his time. He had spent most of his time with her lately, and now he felt deserted.
Walking the streets without purpose, he stopped to a known watering hole for a drink. It was so freezing outside that his nose felt like an icicle. He needed a glass of whiskey to get back on track and continue his restless stroll.
Mark sat on a barstool at the bar and signalled the bartender.
“We haven’t seen you around for quite a while,” the man said. “The usual?”
“Yes, please,” Mark replied. “I was busy elsewhere,” he answered to the bartender’s masked question.
“I see. Well, this is a good night for a single malt,” the bartender replied with a wink for Mark.
He turned and took a bottle off the
