The drink of devils.

She stood there as she watched him cross the floor to where she leant against the bar. She knew what would happen next, so she looked for a way to alter the inevitable. She saw the empty chair in the far corner. God knows who had sat there before, or what was on the surface of the chair. It could ruin her elegant pink and red floral dress. But it would save a mans life.


She meandered through the crowd and sat on the chair, giving her best disinterested look. Her efforts were futile, however, as the man persisted towards her. She was too appealing, it seemed. She slipped into the masses again in an attempt of escape. She found herself at the bar again, when he caught up to her.

“Hey, there, pretty lady. What’s your name?”

Pretty Lady. He had to say it. Two words would end his life. He was lost, she wouldn’t let him get nothing for it. “Cora. And… I’m not interested.” She felt bad. He’d die some brutal, horrible way. They all did. The earth would find a way to swallow this one too.

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