She didn’t want the attention; she only wanted to dance, alone with her martini. It was then I stood from my stool at the bar, downing the last of m... scotch; it stung as it rushed down my throat, but the burning was pleasant…it was how I imagined she would feel – a pleasant burning. She was fire and I was waiting to be lit. I moved to where she was dancing, her hips moving in time to the pounding in my ears which I could only assume was the music – or was it my own blood pounding, enraged, in. I had finally reached her. ‘Problem sir?’ she asked. Her voice almost made my knees buckle. ‘Actually yes. I’m in need of some assistance.’ ‘That I can see. Seems like a rough deal. I wish I cold help speed up time. But I can’t.’ ‘I guess it’s good that I live in the present then. Since a minute from now isn’t promised why not have some fun before it’s over?’ Never know which minute is your last and I would hate to not go out with a smile on my face, especially on your watch.’ She looked at me. More

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