The flickering neon sign of the bar cast elongated shadows across the sticky tables. Sarah ran a finger around the rim of her untouched cocktail, the ice clinking a lonely rhythm. Across from her, Mark, a man she'd met only a week prior, was deep in conversation with a waitress, his smile wide and genuine. A knot formed in her stomach, tightening with each shared laugh. He’d promised to be exclusively hers, but the ease with which he flirted felt…off. The bar’s dim lighting couldn’t hide the sudden chill that had settled on her skin.
She excused herself to the restroom, the tiled floor cool against her bare feet. Staring at her reflection, she noted the way her jaw was clenched. Her usual bright eyes seemed muted, almost hollow. She’d always trusted her gut, and right now, it was screaming a discordant tune.
Back at the table, Mark was gone. The waitress, wiping down the counter, met her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. “He said he had to run. Said he’d see you later.” The woman shrugged, her voice lacking warmth. A crumpled napkin lay on the table. Sarah picked it up, unfolding it to reveal a phone number, scribbled in familiar handwriting, belonging to the waitress.