She saunters into the small bar in the back of the hotel, her high heeled black leather platform boots thudding on the marble floor. There are only a few people sitting at the tables and a couple of eyes look at the direction of the noise. She slides into a seat at the empty bar, placing her bag on the countertop.

“Why, hello, lady! Good evening. What can I get for you?” the bartender greets her.

She smiles at him warmly. “Hendricks and tonic, please. Cucumber. Make it a double.”

He nods at her with a smile.

She adjusts her denim jacket and pulls out her phone from her bag. 17 unread text messages. She scrunches her eyebrows and puts it back into her bag.

“Here you go. Can I start a tab for you?” he asks and sets the drink down in front of her, interrupting her thoughts.

A bit startled, she looks up. “I’m staying in the hotel. Can you please charge it to room 1217?”

He smiles at her sympathetically. “Of course.” He turns to the register and she takes a long sip of her drink.

“How has your night been?” he asks as he wipes down the bar top.

She half smiles and shrugs lightly. “Okay I guess. Uneventful.”

“Are you visiting for business or on holiday?”

“A little bit of both,” she answers, vaguely. She wasn’t lying and it was nice talking to someone different for once.

“Well, I hope you enjoy your time here.”

“Thank you!” She smiles and grabs her drink and heads upstairs to her room.

She’ll call her parents later and let her friends know later too. For once, she enjoyed the quiet and knowing that nobody is demanding her attention. For once, her job is not the center of her life and she’s not at the beck and call of her horrendous managers. For once, it’s just her.

Yeah, she’ll definitely call her parents in the morning and let them know that she quit her job that morning and hopped on the first flight to London. Her connecting flight to Italy is in two days. She’ll let them know that she hasn’t lost her mind and that she’s okay. She’ll let them know that she finally decided to start her healing process. Unfortunately for her, this isn’t some Eat, Pray, Love shit. This is real life and real life isn’t as pretty, but, hey, in all fairness, nothing can possibly be worse than the level of audacity she dealt with the past few years, right?

[Inspired by: The Chaplin Bar – London, England]

~*~*~*~

Author’s Note –

I’m alive! Barely, but I’m alive. Busy season puts me out of commission for a solid 3-4 months. I’m slowly starting to learn to be a normal human again. This is not my best, but please bear with me. I wanted to write tonight so I did. Not every writing has to ALWAYS be a masterpiece.

Fun fact about me – I love Gatsby-esque bars/lounges, like those with old speakeasy vibes. I wanted to write a scene related to this bar from the minute I walked in. I was staying at the hotel when I was visiting London. Honestly, it’s nothing special, but it had such a charm to it. It’s very modern, nothing Gatsby or speakeasy about it at all, BUT it could’ve been. It was small, the bartender was very friendly, and I stopped by every night after I came back for the evening. This one particular night (I was only there for 3 nights), I can back from a show and sat at the back and just daydreamed as one does – or as I do. A few groups were there and they all just stared at me probably because I was by myself. I had a few drinks and my thoughts randomly went to ‘what if I just didn’t go back home and just stayed here? Quit my job and just went with whatever came my way.’

Do I still need to mention that this didn’t happen and it’s fully based off of my imagination? Though, the conversation did go something like that with the bartender – it was like talking to my dad without being judged.

I have a few more posts planned. I was going back through my drafts and I have so many unfinished pieces. Busy season really took a toll on me. My writings were so blah. It happens. Thank you for bearing with me.

Thank you for reading.

– xox. JayLee