She still enjoys sitting at the bar, watching a skilled bartender shake out six shots of Illusion. She still enjoys sipping them up at one go, enjoys looking around the crowded, smoky scene, scrutinizing nice people. Nice men.
She still likes it when men walk up to her, buy her a drink.
Except, they don't do that anymore.
Somehow, when a woman gets married, people know about it, even people who don't know her personally. Maybe it's the look that envelopes the wife, that gives her that 'untouchable' mark, or that ring. But even when she takes it off, they still won't come.
Except the very, very brave.
'So are you very, very brave?'
'Maybe.'
She smiles. He smiles.
'A drink?'
'Yes please. Illusion.'
'That's really six.'
'I know.'
'Him?'
'On business. You know. The stress. It's killing me.'
He laughs.'
'Don't we all know that.'
And then, she knew he knew. He thought she had forgotten, but really, there's nothing worth forgetting.
¶ 19:10