Amber Jo Ann

Alone at the Bar

Mariah was sitting at the Blackbird Bar, twirling her Merlot in the glass as the sole evidence of her building frustration. Her date was twenty minutes late. She checked her phone again; there were no missed calls or text messages, no hints as to his whereabouts, no apology or excuse. She sipped her wine and reached for the remainder of the roasted nuts she’d ordered. The flavor was as salty as her mood, tempered only by the rich fruity flavors of her wine selection, which matched her plum, velvet dress with its sensual undertones.