The bar curved into the room, dark in the barely lit room. The smoke twisted in its artistic way, forming curls in the gloom, illuminated only by the age-speckled bar lights. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles.
Through the windows, the diamonds of lead panes, trickled the sallow light of street-lamps.
Jangle of voices.
Men and women who look older than they were, slumped on the bar. Someone crying in the corner, anguish lost in hubbub and din. There were standing drinkers at the bar, a few couples in secluded bays, giggling and laughing.
A young woman leaned on the bar, her long and silky black hair lying over one shoulder of her sequinned dress.
She lolled her head to the side, pushing out her red lips. She wasn't exactly drunk but she liked to give out the impression that she was.
