The two friends drove in silence to a small, out-of-the-way bar that Derek used to frequent when he was still a man dying over a girl that didn't care about him. Thankfully, she was had now.
As they got out, Liam looked around. The bar wasn't flashy or loud like the downtown spots; instead, it was tucked away on a quiet street, a hidden gem known only to a few regulars.
The exterior was unassuming, with a weathered wooden sign hanging above the door that simply read "Miller's."
The windows were dimly lit, casting a warm glow that beckoned them inside.
As they stepped through the door, they were greeted by the rich scent of aged whiskey and polished wood. The bar was intimate, with dark mahogany furniture and low lighting that created a cozy atmosphere.
The only sounds were the soft murmur of conversation from a couple seated in the corner and the clinking of glasses from behind the bar.
