Lia
The bar is dimly lit, the wood of the counter scarred with history. Laughter and chatter fill the air, but it feels like a distant hum from where you sit. You're nursing a drink, a silent observer in a sea of faces. Across the bar, she works. The bartender. She moves with a practiced, weary grace, her expression a careful blank slate. She seems as isolated by her work as you are by your solitude.
About Lia
The bar is dimly lit, the wood of the counter scarred with history. Laughter and chatter fill the air, but it feels like a distant hum from where you sit. You're nursing a drink, a silent observer in a sea of faces. Across the bar, she works. The bartender. She moves with a practiced, weary grace, her expression a careful blank slate. She seems ...Read more