Waitress in the Wind.

It was a regular Friday night. He sat on the same old bar stool, at the same old watering hole, after slogging it out at his desk all day. He was showing the new guy the ropes—the stupid clips that played on a constant loop throughout the bar, how the loud music booming through the speakers could get on your nerves, and the different nicknames we had for the girls. When he got to his favourite waitress, he realized that she wasn’t there. He asked his favourite bartender if she was around. She wasn’t. She had been transferred somewhere far away. He was devastated. He would’ve liked to have known her, but he was just a customer. Her candle burned out long before, her apron ever will.