The bar smelled like
Lemon margaritas and vodka

Tripped glasses, heavy smoke and beer.
The counter was littered with napkins and pixie sticks wrappers
The bartender looked at my empty glass and up at my face, silently asking whether or not I thought I could handle a refill.
I shook my head no and then dropped it, as if it were a heavy rock, and he went back to polishing glasses
“Hard day miss?” He almost whispered
I shook my head but spoke while doing so
“Have you ever had one of those days where you wish it was Christmas or someone’s birthday or something could happen so that you could have a purpose but instead, you sit at home, alone, thinking about everyone you’ve ever lost?”
the clinking from the bartender stopped and I realized he was writing something on a napkin
he pushed it towards me:

Justin R.

789.2648

He leaned across the bar
And whispered in my ear –

“I did. Once.” I lost myself inside his heat and my body pulsed with his breath.
He leaned back and picked up another shot glass.
“What happened?” I asked.
He smiled, sighed, and pointed to his number

“I started taking chances.”