SMOKE SIGNALS

She wasn’t there to be noticed. She was there to remember who she was

The bar was familiar. Being alone was not.

She pushed the door open gently and peeked inside. It took her a moment to adjust to the dark, smoky room.

She inhaled—regretting it instantly. The smell of smoke and liquor, laced with human anxiety, wasn’t a scent she missed.

She chose her seat carefully, old instincts trickling back. Still, she was surprised by how vulnerable she felt.

Too many eyes. Too many questions she couldn’t answer.

She swiveled in the barstool and turned toward the door.

Maybe she wasn’t ready.

No. She was.

She sat up straight. Faced the bar. Took a breath.

“Scotch and water,” she said.