death is a cold embrace

       her choice in drinks tended to surprise people.  with her whole demeanor and energy she put out into the world, most expected her to throw back glasses of whiskey or straight vodka.  but NOPE, lis had a taste for the PRETTY, fruity mixed drinks.  that sweet tooth of hers never failed to show up in practically EVERY aspect of her day.  after a shallow sip, the glass is slammed back to the aged wood of the bar with a little more force than desired. the bartender sends a look her way as if to analyze her state of inebriation.  NOT THERE YET.  she greets the questioning gaze with a SOUR look of her own and he soon turns away to attend to another customer.  a sigh heaves at her shoulders.  she uses the straw to push the lemon deeper into the bright pink liquid, past the gaggle of ice, to the very bottom.  the citrus is stabbed a few times more with the plastic object, causing the yellow garnish to feather into the liquid.  another sigh.   “been A BIT dull tonight…  might start a bar fight to LIVEN things up…”