So you know, I think I’m getting better as a writer

So maybe she’s talking to a bartender. “Hello there,” the bartender says, a woman about Mary’s age, but much thicker. “Drink?”

“Beer, please,” mary says. The bartender gets her a beer on tap. “Thank you, tell me, you have a lot of strangers here?”

“Oh no, why you’re the first person I’ve seen for the first time in a some time, a few days perhaps.”

“interesting,” mary sips at her beer and rolls her eyes, licks her lips. The ceiling is low here, perhaps ten feet, but the holograph is just fans spinning and spinning in the air. “that’s very interesting.”

“oh, how so, if you dont mind me asking?”

“I, uh,” Mary pauses to belch, spraying some wet beer drops from her throat, onto the bartender’s face. “I don’t mind at all. It’s interesting because there was something that happened, right here, not slo long ago. A few days, perhaps.”

“A few days, only, you say? Ah yes, I believe I know what you’re talking about.” The bartender leans forward, over the bar, and places her hand up to cup Mary’s ear. Into mary’s eardrum, she whispers, “There was murder here, moider, not so long ago.” Mary licks her lips and takes a deep breath.

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