Jason entered the bar, the place was bustling with patrons and loud with the sound of drunk conversations. He walked up to the counter and took a seat in the brown leather swivel chair, letting out a groan in both exhaustion and slight annoyance.

He always came here when upset, but not because he wanted to get drunk. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

He just wanted to see you.

“New York Cosmo,” he mumbled to you, his favorite bartender. He leaned onto the shiny countertop.