Shannon made a second home at Stubbs Bluewater Pub, a local watering hole that managed to survive the pandemic due to an entire community whose devotion to alcohol and unhealthy bar food was second only to the church. It was ten minutes prior to the start of her shift that she questioned whether she made the right choice to come in.
Wisps of ashen clouds mixed with splashes of burning pink. Where did he come from? Shannon struggled to understand how the man had appeared again after so many years. She closed her eyes and a painful memory tried to surface β fighting the urge to remember it just like one fights the urge to leap from the edge of a waterfall.
The smell of the bar was usually the first impression one got when stepping into Stubbs. An aroma of wood and old beer that mingled with cheap pizza and over-sauced buffalo wings. Shannon had grown used to it. Even if it follows her home, trapped in the fibers of her clothes.
Only a few stools were occupied when she made her entrance. These guys were regulars, men in their sixties who had recently retired and filled their time drinking cheap beer and playing Keno.
Ignoring their banter was the young lady behind the bar pretending to be too busy counting the cash register. Emily, the petite little firecracker, had the ability to draw men of all ages from their homes, boats, and offices. It was good for business. Shannon could tell from the day she hired her that she would be a fun and valuable asset. Randy Stubbs had owned the bar since the seventies. He was old fashioned and insisted the bar be ran as such β a dated mindset that drove Shannon nuts when it came time to do her duties as the General Manager.
