~ A short story ~
I slam my apron on the bar counter and leave as the printer vomits paper after paper of orders: beer, mojito, whiskey, cosmopolitan, tequila shots, and vodka orange. The night is young and the swelling crowd is vivacious. Gerard looks at me as I storm out the counter and head to the stage. He must think I am crazy to leave him as he sweats profusely with the number of drinks he needs to serve. But I really don’t care. I’ve had enough of life compromising my dreams.