His responsibility to go from table to table and tell the guests they were about to close. The pub was a respectable one. The kind with red leather seats and no bell to ring. The old woman in the corner had sat away from the main crowd all night, drinking.
“Last call,” he said to her.
She looked up from her empty wine glass.
“One more.” Her voice was deep and she had rings under her eyes.
He got back behind the bar and poured a glass of red. His manager looked at her.
“She paid yet?”
“No.”
“Don’t let her leave without paying.”
“Sure.”
He finished pouring and went back. When he put the glass on the table, she grabbed his arm.
“You like older women?” she whispered.
He felt her long nails and old skin and ripped his hand away from her’s. He walked back to the bar, his eyebrows furrowed. From there he looked to her again. She did not look back but was drinking.
“Do you want me to do something?” His manager asked.
“Like what?”
“Kick her out.”
“She hasn’t paid yet,” he said. The manager shrugged.
When everyone else had left, they both went up to her table.
“One more,” she said.
“We are closed,” the manager said.
“One more.”
“Pay and leave please.”
She didn’t say anything. Then she put some cash on the table, stood up, swayed, and walked out.
“Thought she would never leave,” the manager said to him and took the money.
He didn’t answer but took the empty glass from the table and washed it. He put it in its place and wiped his sweat. Her nails had left marks on his forearm.
Ready to go to sleep he said goodbye to his manager and left the pub. The woman was still there, swaying along the street. He walked past her, unlocked his bike and was about to ride away when he heard her deep voice.
“I’m sorry.”
He turned to her, his bike by his side.
“It’s alright.”
“I’m really sorry.” She was slurring.
“It’s ok.”
She sat down on the sidewalk, her legs apart, her head facing the ground; a child too tired to get up.
“I’m really sorry,” she said again.
“Do you want me to call you a cab?” he asked.
Her eyes were dark.
“No, but thank you.”
“Goodnight then,” he said.
As he was cycling away, he could hear her voice one last time, but the traffic was too loud, and he too tired as to try to understand what she was saying.
Hope you enjoyed the story! If you have any good prompts for my next one let me know in the comments or sent me a dm. You can subscribe down here!
relatable read for the city pub workers and forever a fan of how you write dialogue
Sad