The Bar

The Tequila use to burn, now it might as well be water. The atmosphere here was the usual of all bars she had been in, smoke filled hovels that smelled of body odor, piss and alcohol. Scrunching her nose she tried to pick up the smells but she got nothing, not even the smell of the alcohol. Nothing, that is what she felt, tasted, smelled, nothing. She was dead, her body was moving and her mind swimming but everything else, dead. She took another shot of tequila and sighed, six shots later and she was as sober as a teetotaler, it had to be the worse thing about being dead.

She was lost, she had spent most of her life wishing for some excitement, some escape from her mundane life she was too afraid to change. Noises around her were fading into one, it was more annoyance than noise, the country music and the loud people that littered the place. Sitting on a barstool at the bar she was thinking back on the last few weeks, how she had died, why she wasn’t dead, seeing Shadow again, losing him again, accidently killing the demi-god and the way it seemed to reverse her decay, the ginger midge that wouldn’t stop following her around and yet he seemed more interested in her well being than her own husband but maybe that was just because he wanted his damn coin back.

“Wow. Nice scar. What happened?” It took her a moment to realize the male voice to her right was talking to her and about her arm. She picked up the shot and looked at the scar that went around her shoulder then looked at the guy, her face as dead as her body. “It fell off.” Maybe it was the way she looked at him, maybe it was the cold way she looked or sounded but the guy seemed to stop smiling and backed away, she looked back at the bar and took the shot, still nothing. “Fuck.” She huffed as she slid the glass to clink with the others.