A.N. Trying something new. Going to write out a story, but I'm going to limit myself to three paragraphs each chapter. Let me know what you think. Shoot me prompts if you'd like.
It started with a drink and soon followed with another. There wasn't really any particular rhyme or reason. The petite brunette woman walked into the bar thirsty and far be it that any of the swine currently chasing away their demons could tell her she couldn't quench that thirst here. With thick eyeliner set around scowling eyes that held tired bags beneath them, it was clear the woman fit right in. Still, the bartender couldn't help tracing his eyes over her features. Thin. Short. At least three tattoos to speak of and a bust to kill. She had enough piercings to stab the hearts out of any of the foolish, hopeless romantics currently eyeing her. Needless to say, he was a little curious.
So when she shoved her way through the smoky room and found a seat at the bar before him, he made sure to have a tall glass of ale ready. She glowered at it, a frown tugging at her lips, and when she looked up at him he could see a storm gathering in her eyes. He could barely make out her words, let alone the sound of her voice, as she asked for something stronger. "Tough night?" he asked charmingly as he removed the glass and came back with a bottle of vodka. He didn't know that he didn't have a chance.
"Yeah," she growled, looking down as he poured her a stronger drink. She was doing her best to blink back angry tears. Her words were the sahara desert because as she spoke them her throat closed up and her mouth became as dry as sand. "Today marks the third year since my divorce." A little stunned, the bartender paused in his ministrations. Impatient and bitter, she reached over to grab the bottle herself. She raised it up to him sarcastically and said, "Drink up." Then she drank right out of the bottle. It started with one drink and soon followed with another.