Ice Rail
The counter cuts the room in half. It says the drink is unavailable, then slides it closer with one frozen finger.
The counter cuts the room in half. It says the drink is unavailable, then slides it closer with one frozen finger.
No one sits here. The cushion is warm because the room was saving it badly.
Behind the freezer door: custard light, cherry lacquer, parfait spoons, and compliments crossed out too late.
But the frost melted into a heart-shaped reflection, and the bar left the best seat open anyway.