Harding's Pub
“Come on it’s twenty minutes past closing time! Get out!”
“Can’t I just sleep here?”
“Nope, I sleep with my dog!”
She playfully slapped the patron’s arm with her dish cloth and carried on drying the glass in her hand. She gave him one last smile as he waved goodnight and staggered out the door. Satisfied, she locked the door behind him and reached for the light switch.
“I wouldn’t do that.” She heard an unfamiliar voice.
She darted around, her eyes wild with fear. She panicked and grappled the gun out of her waistband. Her heart was pounding faster than she’d ever felt before. The voice belonged to a man dressed in black with bright green eyes standing behind the bar. He was holding a pint glass.
“Please, just—”
“Leave! Get out!!”
She fired her gun wildly. She had no aim, shooting out the pint glass and even the ceiling lights. He swore once but that was all she heard of him until the ammo was spent. Pure silence and nothing but darkness. She took a slow step forward, tears streaming down her cheeks.