#10 
Which is actually #9 
continued…and may go on further still in later installments…
Ginny sat and stared at the stool where her friend Angela had been seated moments before, annoying the odd little bartender with her requests for “something new”. Ginny stared because, contrary to what her senses told her, Angela was no longer there. The bartender stood right where he’d been standing for the last ten minutes. Ginny brought her beer to her lips, tilted it, and found it empty. Without a word she slid it toward the bartender. He filled it deftly and pushed it back to her, but she hardly noticed.
She knew she should be panicked. She knew she should be freaking out and screaming at the strange little man and searching the bar for her friend, but she felt calmer than she had in years. She turned to face the bartender, and he raised one eyebrow quizzically, as if waiting to see what she’d do next. She frowned.
He smiled.
“Where…” She didn’t finish the sentence. Either he was as fucked up as a football bat, or she was. Angela had been sitting beside her a moment earlier, or had disappeared into thin fucking air, or she had never been there at all. The little man waited patiently, still smiling, and still looking for all the world as if it was up to her. As if he was just waiting to see which way she’d play it before he made his move.
And it felt like she did have a choice. She sipped her beer and thought about it. The bartender picked up his rag and began polishing the already shimmering surface of the bar. Ginny noticed that there was no ring on the wood where Angela’s drink should have rested. There was no napkin, and no tip.
She thought about getting up, walking out, and forgetting about it – just waiting to see if Angela would show up at her doorstep that night. She thought about her boyfriend. He’d be off work in about an hour, hot, sweaty, cranky, and wondering why she’d been out with Angela again instead of working slavishly to improve his world. She emptied her beer again, but when the bartender reached for it, she shook her head.
She met his gaze steadily.
“Give me what she had,” she said.
His smile widened. He produced the dark, night-black bottle and another glass. She watched as he filled it, even though the obsidian glass showed no contents. She didn’t hesitate, but grabbed the goblet, closed her eyes, and downed the contents. There was no taste, but she felt warm, and strange. She opened her eyes, and the bartender stood as he’d been standing before, waiting.
Ginny looked around, but nothing had changed. Except…she was sitting on the stool where Angela had been sitting. Her own stool was empty. The beer glass and the napkin it had rested on were gone. She placed the goblet on the bar, caught a glimpse of her fingers gripping it, and grew very still.
The fingers were longer. The polish was dark blue – almost black. Angela’s color. She rose slowly and realized everything had grown smaller. She stepped back and nearly fell as the unfamiliar height of spiked heels robbed her balance.
She glanced at the bartender and asked the question with her eyes.
“She had a beautiful smile,” he said with a slight shrug. “The world would have missed it. You said to give you what she had, and she’s not using it anymore.”
She started to say the world would miss her smile as well, but could not remember the last time she’d really used it. She glanced down at herself and smiled broadly. She turned toward the door, and hesitated again. Would it be the same world she’d walked out of? Would it matter? Who was she? Who would she be?
She pushed out the door and onto the street. She never looked back.
Written by David Wilson - Visit WebsiteFollow me on Twitter
