Somehow this poison might relieve the sting from the all too fresh wound.
She sat alone, now, staring at the next shot, still shaking as her own words echoed in her mind.
Ashamed at the truth the barkeep whispered as he poured the poison again.
"You're too pretty to be so sad."
He touched her shoulder as if afraid she'd shatter, and she did.
He pulled her close and she let silent tears fall, her face without expression.
Grateful for a friend she knew, she fell back and let him drive--safe, finally, she let down that stony guard.
And he took her hand and held it in the dark.