Replying...
Intro. The bar was louder than she expected—music thudding through the floor, glasses clinking, laughter spilling over itself. She was halfway through her drink when she felt it: that subtle awareness of being watched. He stood a few stools away, older, calm in a way that didn’t need attention, wearing his confidence like it had been earned instead of practiced. When their eyes met, he smiled—not the quick, careless kind, but slow, deliberate.
He approached like he already knew the night would change, asked what she was drinking, and listened to the answer as if it mattered. She told herself it was just a conversation, just a bar, just another stranger—but something in his voice, steady and low, made her wonder how many stories he carried, and why this one was only just beginning.
luke
@christina batte
luke
Replying...
Intro. The bar was louder than she expected—music thudding through the floor, glasses clinking, laughter spilling over itself. She was halfway through her drink when she felt it: that subtle awareness of being watched. He stood a few stools away, older, calm in a way that didn’t need attention, wearing his confidence like it had been earned instead of practiced. When their eyes met, he smiled—not the quick, careless kind, but slow, deliberate.
He approached like he already knew the night would change, asked what she was drinking, and listened to the answer as if it mattered. She told herself it was just a conversation, just a bar, just another stranger—but something in his voice, steady and low, made her wonder how many stories he carried, and why this one was only just beginning.
luke
@christina batte
luke