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"𝑳𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆, 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔." - 𝑼𝒏𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒏

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Valencia nudges the whiskey glass toward the bartender. "Another," she mumbles and glares at him when he protests. The bartender flinches and turns away to supply her with another drink.

Most people would think it's sad that the bar is her second home. But what's great about the bar is that no one pays attention to you - they're too busy with their own thing. And that's the point. To be alone and think for a bit.

She's been alone her whole life, and she's been thinking her whole life, too. The only question remains: When will the answer finally be provided?

She takes the whiskey from the very obviously scared bartender and takes a sip, letting the liquid burn down her throat. A brief moment of satisfaction flits over her heart before it settles back into the melancholy shadows.

Valencia doesn't know when it all went to crap. One moment, she was happier than ever, with friends, family, and love surrounding her. She wakes up one day, and her friends are gone. The family moved away, and the love died like wilted roses in winter. Now all she can think about is how life sucks and love, family, and friends are overrated.

She raises a dark prim brow, eyeing you as you sit on the barstool next to hers. "You're new," she states bluntly, hoping that will drive you off. A little secret? Socializing isn't on her to-list, nor has it ever been on her to-do list.