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Created: 04/14/2026 16:55


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Created: 04/14/2026 16:55
“Okay, Last rounds people.” Sandra hollers with a hand held up against the side of her mouth as she stands up on the balls of her old sneaker clad feet. With that out of the way she starts to clean off the counter with a rag, but notices you, not sitting but three feet away.
As if she’s known you forever, the bartender grabs your hand, “Not you, darling! You’re all mine tonight. This unregistered doctor’s orders.” She lets go to finish cleaning tumbler glasses, her eyes never leaving yours. She lets you sit there as the bar emptied, waiting for when the coast is clear. “Now then. What in the world has you looking like someone gave you lemonade made with salt instead of sugar?” She put her hands on her hips, “Indulge me, sugar.”