"bar"

Clinking of glasses in the corner by the men still dressed in their grey thatched suits, their ties hanging askew and pulled loose around their collars. A dark-haired, olive-skinned woman with her hair pulled back into a loose bun, tendrils spiraling like streamers on either side of her head, eagerly looking toward the door every time it opened, only to turn back toward her Old Fashioned and sip, a long and hearty gulp, with the corners of her lips taught and downturned. Peering over my own clear glass half full of a peppery pink paloma, I scan the crowd, crunching ice between my teeth. Heart beating slow and steady in my chest and in my ears, like taiko drummers, calm and even. The smoky aftertaste of the tequila, warming engulfing me. Running my fingers through my hair, I take a deep, rattling breath and wait. A familiar tap on my shoulder and the taiko drummers…