Casanova Car

It's a different girl who walks into the saloon state of Ohio only two days later. Her spurs don't click defiantly; they scuff along half-heartedly. She slides into a stool at the bar. There's no gun-slinging today, no threats to the bartender. He eyes her warily.

"What can I get you?" he asks.

She blinks up at him, eyes big and wet. "I...." She shakes her head. "Oatmeal?"

Bartender's mouth pinches over to one side. He rummages, then sets a bottle on the counter and slides it over to Girl.

Girl looks at the bottle, eyes dull.

"I've seen bad," Bartender says, by way of explanation. "I know when people need something stronger than oatmeal."

He turns away, to give her time with the bottle.

"It was morning," she whispers.

Bartender looks back. "I'm sorry?"

"Morning. When he left." She's staring off, looking listlessly at nothing. Her finger traces a squiggly line on the bottle.

Bartender casts a longing gaze at the swinging doors, hoping someone will come in and spare him from this conversation. Girl doesn't notice his look.

"I loved him. You know?" she continues. "I know it was only 2 days. But I thought he was different. I really thought it was going to be me and him, forever. Just me and Lerone."

The grizzled man next to Girl leans over, sloshing his drink as he does. "Only the good die young," he offers hopefully, and lets out a huge belch.

"He didn't die," Girl murmurs.  She opens the bottle and takes a long drink.

"He lied."

Goodbye, Lerone. And screw you! Emily made the right choice when she cut you without a single rose.