Miss Pancakes and the Glass of Merlot
‘Table for one?’ The hostess smiles a bright toothy grin. ‘Uh, no, for two, I’m um, meeting someone’, I manage, the words sticking in my throat. We weave through the crowded bar, a stumbling man knocks into my shoulder, ‘Hey sexy, let me get you a drink’ he slurs. I nervously shake my head, and push the hair from my face to attempt an answer, though he’s already forgotten me and is swinging his arm over the shoulder of a waitress and making his way back to the bar.
