Again I find her sitting alone at the other end of the bar, her lips give a Mona Lisa like smile as if she had been waiting on my arrival all afternoon. In an instant I am both disgusted and enthralled. I take a seat in front of the tap and order round one. I have decided now to speak to her. She’s gorgeous with her raven black hair and enormous almond eyes. She seems so soft and exciting. I can smell her perfume from my seat and I’m instantly overwhelmed with thoughts of her. It’s simply amazing how sounds or scents can rekindle feelings of a time lost. Like how when walking through a cafeteria you’re instantly transported to more innocent times of kickball and tire swings. Like when I hear that buzzing on a hot summer day it’s back to the simple time of tree forts and mischief. How any time I walk past someone wearing her perfume a sharp pain stabs me in the gut as a reminder of what a fool I was. I was too young than to truly understand what a great thing I had.

I make small talk with her and find out she’s here on business for a few weeks and doesn’t know anyone in town. She hates small towns and says she feels comfortable talking to me. I lie and tell her I am a published writer hell bent on drinking my life away. It’s half of a lie anyway. She doesn’t leave and isn’t repulsed with her new found knowledge of me. All my suspicions are confirmed. She thinks she can save me. She thinks I want to be saved and that is her first mistake. I destroy women like her, when I’m done with them they’re nothing more than a shell of the great savior they once fancied themselves. I leave her a number, pay my tab and leave.