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DANTE
Eleanor sat at the bar, nursing her anger along with a nearly empty glass of whiskey. The dim lighting and steady hum of conversation around her did little to soothe the turmoil churning inside.
She took another swig, feeling the burn down her throat, and motioned to the bartender, Travis, for another.
Travis, a close friend of hers and the bartender, looked at her with concern.
"Eleanor, I think you've had enough for tonight."
She glared at him, her eyes flashing with frustration.
"Just pour me another, Travis. I need it."
He shook his head, his expression firm but gentle.
"No, Eleanor. You don't need another. You need to talk to someone."
Eleanor's anger flared, and she slammed her glass down on the counter.
"Dammit, Travis, just do what I asked!"
she shoute
