Being a bartender in a shitty little town sometimes had advantages. First, you could drink on your service and no one gave a fuck. Two, you always met the weirdest people.

Like… him. The dude said his name was Chip and well, he looked like he had just seen hell.

“Can I uh… have another one, please?” he asked you, probably on his sixth shot of Whiskey. You moved and filled his glass without any questions.

Chip grimaced with disgust as he drank, and looked at you. “What’s your name?” he asked.