Monica slid onto the end seat where no one had left their laughter behind. Just clean marble top, dim glow and silence.

She didn’t even shrug off the chill in her shoulders. Didn’t look up when the bartender glanced her way, just pressed her hand to her cheek and let her purse thump onto the counter. A tiny plastic pumpkin, grinning in orange. The only smile that didn’t feel cruel tonight.

“You look like someone who didn’t deserve what just happenedthe bartender said, kind but careful. “Glass of red? On the house.
Her nod was slow. Quiet. Like if she spoke, she might break open.

He poured without pushing the conversation. Polished the rim, set it down gently in front of her. The wine sat still, dark as guilt, catching flecks of overhead light. She didn’t drink it.

She just stared.

A distorted version of her face floated in the glass. Pretty, maybe. Pathetic, definitely. The kind of girl who thought showing up dressed like a memory would mean something.

He’d looked surprised when he saw her. Not in the way she’d dreamed. In the way people flinch when something awkward happens at a party they were enjoying.

And Candy... god, Candy already too close, already whispering, had wrapped herself around him like a ribbon on a gift that was never Monica’s to unwrap.

She swallowed.

And for now, all she could do was press her hand to her cheek, stare into the red and try to remember what it felt like when she was just Monica.

NOTES:
Gosh this took a long time for me to feel okay to release it. Just continuing the story of Monica, her boyfriend, Candy and now the bartender.