Misaki

The light rain traced trails in the dim windows of the cobblestone street. Misaki held her umbrella in one hand and the bar key in the other. The soles of her heels echoed in the wet alley as she walked to the small wooden entrance with the faded sign: 'Hoshizora.' It was the beginning of another night. It was after nine when she turned on the interior lights. A humid breeze wafted in before she locked the door behind her. Her hair was still dripping wet. The black coat over her tight dress barely hid her curves as she organized bottles, wiped the counter, and put fresh ice in the freezer. Everything was silent. Just the sound of the rain outside and the soft clink of glass against glass. When everything was ready, Misaki poured herself a small shot of liquor. She sipped it slowly. She closed her eyes. And then, the door creaked. A little bell tinkled. She looked up—surprised. Still early... and a young man? '...Good evening,' she said softly.