She was too sweet.

She was too sweet. Sickly. Like candy floss coco pops.
Maybe that’s the reason I saw her every Friday, sat at the bar. Alone.
A pink Passoa, always stared at her from the damp beer mat, equally as lonely now it had been separated from the rest of the bottle.
Did she give everyone tooth ache? getting those perfectly shark white vaneers was expensive so why risk it with something a little sweet.
But it’s not what she drank or how she dressed that was sugary, it was her voice and words. Her vowels were syrupy and consonants like a crumble crust.
I’ve seen him at the end of the bar more often in the last couple of months. He perches on the end of the leather stool like he is only stopping for one. Something dark always in his glass, ice cubes swimming trying to survive as he turns the tumbler on its edge.
Today I saw him smirk. Dimples appeared on his cheek.
It was either something funny he had remembered or he had overheard me asking what the sugar content was in apple sours. Not that I was conscious of my weight but I always find sugar gets to be quicker than the alcohol.
The boy appeared after her 3rd drink, greeted her with a wink; stealing the spare stool.
Her smile quick and forced with a hint at the corners of her lips that maybe he wasn’t welcome; that there was no point even trying.
Their conversation was low, making it hard to know exactly what the narrative was; made me wish i’d mastered the skill of lip reading like my sister.
I ordered another drink, it was only 6pm. Partly because I wanted to get home after Julie had left for her shift and I was intrigued how the interaction a few bar stools down was going to end.
Can’t a girl drink in piece these days. He’d refused to move for the last 20 minutes, ignoring my short replies and fed up sighs.  This Cheshire cat was not giving up, he signaled the bartender for another drink;  pushing his glass right to the edge and letting it partly go over the edge so she moved towards him a bit quicker.
As he was flirting with the blonde, I noticed the seat and glass further down were now empty. Slightly disappointed as watching him had become quick interesting.
Pain in the ass sat back down, pulling a curtain over where the man had left stage right. That’s when it happened, his face changed to aggravation.
I’d had enough and downed my drink while the loser without a clue was looking down the bar tenders top, getting a right eye full. Time to step in, cause anyone that wore crocodile shoes under the age of 45 in my book was a bit of a nob.
I walked out the back exit and went in through the front, walking quickly with a look of stress on my face.
“Sorry i’m late honey, work was crazy” I said slipping my arm around her shoulders.  

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