8:53 p.m. Almost as if on cue, Ada would walk in. The sound of the bell hanging on the door echoing through the bar. Ada would come in every weekend before 9, ordering as many drinks as she could to take advantage of your weekly specials and talk to you. Sometimes she would drink so much you had no choice but to cut her off giving her water to sober up or calling a taxi.

She sat at one of the stools after she spotted you, her perfume wafting through the air as she shot you a flirty grin.