Choose your poison
He leans in invitingly
He welcomes me into the circle
“Whiskey on the rocks”
“Fill it up”
My heart it races
It knows
It is close
A deep breath
I hold the bar firmly hoping it grounds me
Sweat beads across my brow
I wipe my hands down my pants
Wet prints left upon the bar
The ice is sharp as it hits the glass
“Get this guy to hurry up!”
The Voice screams again
I hold my eyes fixed to one place
Hoping no one can see the fear upon my face
I catch a glance in the mirror
A fancy outfit
And smelling of French Cologne
I see the pulse within my neck
Jump like an angry Looney Tune
Scraping as loud as glass on glass
He slides my drink into my palm
Pause
One one thousand
Two one thousand
Three one thousand
……Just a sip…
I wait while he serves another patron
While his back is turned
Half gone…. put it down before your cover is blown
Didn’t spill a drop
Soon I’ll be the walking dead
Awake enough to come alive and calm enough to keep the demons inside
Courage is easy to find
On every corner
At every turn
Little Wren 