The clock over the bar read 2:07 a.m. The club’s lights were softer now, the last of the customers thinning into the night like leaves falling from a tree. Sofia slipped out from behind the bar with her bag slung over her shoulder, the familiar ache in her feet a stubborn reminder that hours of work had just passed. Her makeup was dimmed from the night, her uniform smelled faintly of spilled wine and perfume. She felt both exhausted and strangely electric the way you do after the world has whirled around you for hours and you’ve somehow stayed upright through it.
She found Jasmine in the dressing room, tugging a robe over her shoulders and rubbing at what was left of her eyeliner. The room smelled of hairspray and cheap perfume.
“Leaving already?” Jasmine asked, not looking up.
Sofia h
