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Empty Bar

Old Saloon

Originally published in Scribes *MICRO* Fiction, January 2023

An old room. Blue-grey wood. A hundred bottles haunting a mirrored wall.

He comes in. He sits. He lights a cigarette.

One man. Two men. They undo straps, unload a bag. Lots of counting, lots of cash. Divided into fours.

The counting slows. The counting stops. Each man looks at the other.

“Where’s the rest?”

“There ain’t”

More words, an argument. Angry. Guns.

Everywhere the flinty chips of the bone-dry wood. Everywhere the oily black, overtaking greyness. Stop.

Two men ride. Two men stay.

Darkness coalesces.

Bottles. Two more spirits line the haunted wall.

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