It was a small bar, only six seats and four of them were taken. I sat next to a woman typing away at her laptop, hoping she was too busy to want to talk.
"You look like you could use a drink." The bartender smiled, handed me a small menu, and then walked into the back.
"I hate that." The woman next to me mumbled.
"Pardon me?" I turned, wondering if she was addressing me, or talking to herself. Long braids streamed down her slender back. She smiled in my direction and spoke.
"The bartender is nice enough, but I hate it when they say stuff like, 'looks like you need a drink' or 'bad day, huh?' I'm like, that's none of your damn business. Just give me the menu." She whispered, and then laughed. I laughed along with her, knowing exactly how she felt.
"Yeah, that's the truth. Whatever, it
