This is really short. I have been really struggling to write recently and this is far from perfect but I am actually kinda happy with it.I hope you enjoy
Roni was going to be a lawyer, possibly a doctor. She had potential for politics, the tenacity, the fire, her heart. Politicians often had a legacy, whether it was positive or not was a completely separate question entirely. There was the also the fact that she was a woman, despite all the preaches of equality, the changing attitudes, gender still mattered. That's what her mother had planned for her. If she could make her Queen she would.
Life rarely goes as planned.
She chuckles as she remembers her mother's look of utter disdain when she announced she was dropping out of law school to open a bar.
It wasn't much. Old tables saved from local skips, a mix of wooden chairs and reconditioned sofas, there was a pair in there somewhere. The bar itself was a barely more than a plank of wood balanced on oil drums. A dive. Roni preferred rustic.
It was her livelihood though and she loved it.
Loved seeing people from every walk of life. Found it almost fascinating that in one place someone could be celebrating while another was mourning. In a bar it doesn't matter who you are or your job. Everyone was a somebody. Everyone mattered. But no one knew your name. That's a lie; Roni knew some of their names.
Officer Rogers was in Seattle PD, one of the good guys. Drank rum like a pirate. Charming, if a little flirtatious and presumptuous.
Tiana, a local girl who loved cooking and had a huge heart. Determination was her greatest strength, but the world is a harsh and sometimes the more you try the more you get hurt. Roni wasn't worried though, that girl was almost there.
Tremaine. Stuck up bitch in her pantsuits and her perfect hair. Saw the potential in the bar, some rich flats.
Henry, a young man with an incredible imagination, a huge heart. There was a light missing in his eyes. He'd lost something. Something dear to him. There was something else, she felt like she knew him, that in another life they had been close.
She turned to the end of the bar. He wasn't there. He never was. Perhaps he never was. The man with the lion tattoo. A thief. A thief whom she would willingly give her heart to. In some other world they would marry, he would propose with an arrow, a touch dramatic but also the most romantic gesture she would have known in her lonely life. Another version of her loved him, only to lose him, to face the harsh reality of life without him. She would learn to live without. To love only to lose it or to live a life without love, which is worse she honestly didn't know?
She wasn't them. She looked up to the arrow, one of the few decorations in the place and made a promise to him, whoever, wherever he was. Their life was over before it even began but she would make one last vow. To start over and over somehow.
She poured herself a double, triple bourbon. She was making a vow to at worst an ornament, at best her long lost soulmates ghost.
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