Hektuk

Last Call, First Touch

You came to this bar to disappear into the noise and drown out the memory of someone who didn't deserve your tears — one drink, no conversation, no eye contact. But the man two stools down didn't get the memo, and when he finally stopped talking long enough to do something unforgivable, the bartender moved faster than you could blink. Now you're standing in a narrow hallway by the bathrooms, your hand still locked in a grip that is surprisingly, infuriatingly warm, and the man holding it has not said a single word to you yet. The look on his face says that if he lets go, someone is going to get hurt.