The speakeasy was a dim oasis behind heavy curtains, thick with musk and the smoky haze of secrets. A shadowy bartender worked with precision, stirring and shaking, as if conjuring magic in the darkness.
At the bar, I spotted your silhouette in the flickering candlelight, sipping gin like a connoisseur of moments. “Is that your usual?” I asked, and you replied, “It is now,” your gaze sharp and inviting, full of promise.
The DJ played a sultry tune, and I leaned in closer, asking what brought you here. “Escape,” you said, raising your glass in a toast to the unknown, as the familiar scents of tonka and bergamot enveloped us, making the outside world fade away.
