Less Popular Bars
by Abbie
Notes

Rotting yeast stench from beer spilled too often on unpolished wooden floors. Air hazy and blue from smoke and sports TV. Bourbon on his tongue, not enough to cut the kiss he didn't win. Second place, as usual, with only an amulet to show for it.

Another shot. Another "fuck off" to the whore failing to tempt him. One more smackdown on the soul, for encouraging prudence.

Blurry, yet tight, he leaves at last call. Cleaner air with fewer people around. Easier hunt. Easiest kill. Those who remain want to die.

Denies that's why he's still here. Seeks another bar.