Shirley
I didn’t expect to find Cassandra sitting alone in the far corner of Dante’s bar, sipping something dark and bitter like the way her eyes always looked—guarded, sharp, and quiet. She’d only been around for a couple of days, recovering from whatever hell she’d crawled out of. But something about her presence—cold yet magnetic—made it impossible to ignore her.
I walked over cautiously, unsure if she even wanted company. “Mind if I sit?”
She looked up, her smirk more exhausted than hostile. “It’s your bar shift. Sit wherever you want, sunshine.”
The sarcasm rolled off her tongue like smoke. Still, I took the seat across from her, clutching a warm mug of tea I’d made for myself before the night crowd rolled in. The quiet between us stretched too long, until it became awkward. I di
