Chances&Choices
an excerpt

She had come to the bar that night because it seemed like that’s what everyone else always did when they were exhausted and lonely and frustrated and just wanted to find a place to sit and be by themselves. Not that she was much of a drinker. Or any sort of a drinker at all. But every once in a while it felt like her life was playing out like a bad movie, and that she should honour the developments by reacting like the heroines of bad movies. She could see the scenes playing out in her head. A montage of her, waiting by the bus stop in the rain, sitting on a bar stool in her drenched coat, sipping a sexy-looking drink and wistfully staring off into the distance. In her montage, there was always music with lyrics that seemed to fit the context perfectly, and the bartender had a towel draped over his shoulder and leaned on the counter with one arm as he asked “What’ll it be, lady?” They left her with the inevitable conclusion that she watched too many bad movies. Today she had finally decided that it was time to try this. After all, it seemed to work in the movies.
“A martini. That’s neat. Very smooth, very sexy. Don’t see a lotta women drinking that.” It took her a second to realize that someone was talking to her. Against her better judgement she turned around, too baffled to realize that she was signalling interest and could thus count on at least a few other unsolicited comments. The man next to her didn’t look like he was a regular customer of this bar, either. [...] It was his eyes that made her answer.
“I get it for the olives. They taste better soaked in alcohol.” He grinned.
“Not bad.”