"What's your name?" I asked, already knowing it didn't matter.
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"What's your name?" I asked again, this time with a sense of desperation. "What's your name
I met her in a dingy bar, where the only light came from a flickering neon sign outside. She was sitting alone, nursing a whiskey on the rocks. I slid onto the stool next to her, and she didn't even flinch. "What's your name?" I asked
The next morning, we lay there, tangled in a mess of sheets and regret. The city outside was waking up, its noise and chaos seeping into our room like a cold draft.