The bar was a wreck.
Maya stepped out of the back room and surveyed the damage. Chairs were overturned, their legs sticking up like dead animals frozen in their final death throes. Tables were splintered, the wood cracked and broken, evidence of violence that had erupted like a storm and left destruction in its wake. Glass covered the floor like a deadly carpet, crunching under her feet with every careful step she took, the sound sharp and jarring in the silence. The jukebox had a crack running through its glass front, the shattered surface reflecting the dim light in jagged fragments that looked like frozen lightning. The neon sign flickered weakly, casting erratic shadows across the chaos, making everything feel like a nightmare she couldn't wake from, a bad dream that had somehow becom
