………….

I sat swirling my drink, the ice tinkering against the side of the glass. It reminded me of wind chimes, delicate, hollow. A familiar dull ache crept in. I knew this had to be the last time.

As if sensing my hesitation, the bartender slid a tray onto the counter.

“One last visit?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Same as last time, or somewhere new?”

We both knew the answer.

I was already angry with myself for coming back at all. So I did what I always did, promised myself it would be the last time.

Again.