Another year, another wedding to attend. Aaron was happy for them, of course. But the slight sting in his chest when listening to the vows of two committed lovers was unavoidable. Why couldn’t that be him? Why was he forbidden of a healthy relationship?

The official ceremony ended quite quickly, thanks to his dissociation midway. Now it was time for his favourite part. The after party. He could practically envision the amount of margaritas he was about to throw back.

After sharing a few drinks and small talk with surrounding guests, Aaron took notice of a woman sat at the bar, stirring her cheap margarita with an olive-skewered toothpick. He didn’t recognize her. She must’ve been a friend of the bride.

Feeling rather lonely and his anxiety having been dulled by the liquor, he approached, downing the last of his drink in one big gulp.

“Hey, I’ll take another one. Thanks.” He says to the bartender, pushing forth his empty glass before turning to you.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met before. My name’s Aaron.” He greets with a smile, holding out a hand for you to shake.