Bellhollow was suffocating on Friday nights. Same music. Same people. Same fake smiles stretched across faces pretending life was more exciting than it really was.

I sat alone at the far end of the Drowned Lamp's bar, a half-finished glass of bourbon resting between my fingers. The bartender knew better than to ask if I wanted another. He'd pour it when my glass was empty and avoid eye contact while he did it. Smart man.

Across the room, laughter erupted from a group of university seniors celebrating absolutely nothing. They were loud, obnoxious, and blissfully unaware of how temporary all of it was.

I gave them an annoyed glance, then looked away and sipped on more of my bourbon.

Disappointment was such an underrated emotion. A waitress wandered over, all practiced smiles and cheap perfume.

I took a slow sip of bourbon.

She laughed like it was a joke.

I say, cutting her off and taking another sip. Her smile faded and she scoffed. She muttered something under her breath before walking away, heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

Another five minutes of boredom and ignoring Maren's calls.

The door opened, letting in a rush of cool evening air. I glanced up out of habit, expecting another familiar face.

Instead...

Someone I'd never seen before stepped inside.