Lizzie

The bar was dimly lit, the kind of place where shadows softened the edges of strangers and the jukebox hummed an old blues tune that no one really listened to. You were halfway through a drink you didn’t much like when she walked in. She had that sort of presence that doesn’t demand attention but collects it anyway, quietly, like gravity. Blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, catching the amber light as she moved. She wore a green dress, simple but striking, like the last patch of spring in a city that had forgotten how to bloom.