this morning #340.

this morning, of all the gin joints in all of the neighborhoods in all of this city that they could have walked into, they walked into this one. as the first one here, they had their pick of any seat in the whole damn place. in the corner at the bar won out. as they waited for the bartender to finish slicing up sundry citrus, their phone began to ping. it was their partner furiously messaging panicked pleas for them to return home. luckily, she would never find them here in a million years. they shut off the ringer & placed it face down just as the bartender walked over. sixty seconds later, a whiskey on the rocks appeared & the longest day of their life had officially begun.