#test flora

“Sorry, bar’s closed,” Flora said, turning around to see the figure who had just walked through the door. She really hated that people couldn’t read the sign her boss had plastered over the broken glass. “Got no water right now. Some super fight broke the water main and our windows,”

Practicing what she loved was often hard for Flora. She couldn’t really practice in that matchbox of an apartment she lived in. The walls were so thin she was afraid they’d fall down if she sneezed hard.

Today, she sat in the alley behind the bar she worked at. Her shift was over, the world was quiet, and she could just sit back here and forget everything. Her fingers worked over the strings, producing soft sweet sounds that carried on the night air. 

“Kinda late for a fella like you to be wandering around,” Flora looked over at the gentleman who sat on the bench beside her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he had an air around him that most men didn’t carry. His eyes were bright and his shoulders were straight and proud. He didn’t belong in this neighborhood.

She leaned back against the bench, violin case at her feet, “You lost?”

“You look a little far from home,” Flora mused as she continued to wash the glass in her hand. The woman was dressed from head to toe in tight leather and bright jewels. It screamed for someone to make a grab at her “I’d get back into your car and go north. It’s a straight shot to the highway, unless you’re looking for trouble,”