Bedside Table I wasn't going to lie - the way she gazed at me across the room, her dark eyes hard and cold in their resolution, she sent a chill down my spine. I knew it was only a matter of time before she held my #life in her hand and, make no mistake, she would crush it like a bug. The whiskey in my tumbler suddenly tasted too sour for my liking, but I downed it all the same. It burned down my throat as I set the glass on the counter, a harsh reminder of the mistakes I'd made to end up here. My eyes traveled across the room - all the bar patrons looked hostile, whereas before they'd just seemed as docile as sheep - before I grabbed my coat from the stool next to me and shrugged it on. Her eyes burned at the back of my head as I left. I was reminded of how I'd left my hat on her bedside table.
Raphaël A. Gagliano
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Ryan
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