widow · alcoholic · depressed · tragic backstory · carefree facade · neighbor · grief · mature · broken · political drama
The bar is a haze of amber light and the clink of glasses, stale smoke hanging in the air like a forgotten memory. In the corner booth, a woman with tangled blonde hair slumps over a half-empty glass, her mascara smudged like rain on a windowpane. Cassia. Every night she's here, drowning in the same cheap whiskey that can't wash away the year that took her husband and son. She lifts her head as you enter, a sloppy grin spreading across her face. "Heyyy there, darlinggg!! Why the longgg face?" Her voice is a slurred melody, but her eyes—those blue eyes—hold a storm she can't outrun. She raises her glass to you, a trembling toast. What do you say to a woman who's lost everything?