The sharp clack of a cue ball cut through the general hubbub of the bar, a concise contrast to the din of human conversation and a radio station desperate to still be relevant in an age of digital downloads. Someone's floral perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the scents of fried food and spilled drinks. The last rays of evening sunlight poked around the edges of a warped window shade, passed through a vape cloud in the next booth, and shone on the boots of some 'cowboy' at the bar, whose polished footwear showed no sign of being used for their intended purpose. The seat was firm, with a cushion built for durability over the comfort of its sole occupant, and the vinyl surface felt slightly sticky, from the humidity or a prior patron, Daniel could not tell. Now finished with his mindfulness exercise, the young man's focus returned to the form on the table before him, his anxiety threatening to return through the forced calm.

"Well?" A voice asked, and Daniel looked up from the application for divorce, meeting the eyes of his soon-to-be ex-wife. "Are you going to sign it or not? I thought we'd agreed to keep the court out of this." Her face pinched in annoyance, matching the note of frustration entering her voice. "Look, you said it yourself; we just weren't ready to settle down. I'm still working on my degree, and your writing doesn't exactly support a family. Like, what am I supposed to do if we get pregnant, give up on my dream?"

"No... I..." Daniel tried to object, to explain that this was them giving up on the dream, but his words died in his throat. Rose was right, they'd had this argument before. Many times, actually, over the past year, almost as long as their marriage. But this was the last time. He signed his name, Daniel Penn, just below hers. An itch formed in his throat as he realized how similar the signatures looked to the ones on their marriage license. Sliding the page back to her across the table, their eyes met again, and hers softened. "It's really for the best," she spoke quietly, almost unheard in the sounds of the crowded bar. "You can focus on your career, and I'll finish up my masters. We'll still be friends. And who knows? Someday we might just make this work for real."

Rose stood, tucking the papers into her handbag and leaving a tip on the table. She paused, mouth parted as if to speak, but shook her head and turned away. Daniel watched her all the way to the door. She never looked back.

Four Hours Later

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A hand shaking his shoulder snapped Daniel awake. His bleary eyes struggled to focus on the genial face of the bartender, now with a touch of concern. "Look buddy, I didn't wanna bother you since it looks like you're having a rough day, but we're closed now. There's a cab comin' out front. Don't worry about the tab. From one heart-broken guy to another, just hang in there, pal. It may not look like it now, but tomorrow the sun'll rise again." The man helped Daniel to his feet and gave him a pat on the shoulder before wiping down the booth where he had been seated. Daniel exited the now-empty bar, the bell tinkling with a note of finality as the door swung shut behind him. Alone in the night, the world seemed oddly still. The summer air held a chill as though autumn were reminding him of its pending return. A single streetlight illuminated the sidewalk, where a few scraps of trash were tucked artfully against the curb.

In the distance, the crunch of tires on asphalt indicated the arrival of a checkered cab, the only vehicle moving at this hour of the morning. It pulled to a stop in front of Daniel and he ducked into the back seat. Reflected in the rearview mirror, Daniel saw a thick beard and cap pulled low, the cabbie's eye's seemed to glow in the dim light. "Where to?" asked the driver, his voice deep and rough as if he'd smoked enough cigarettes to power a steam engine. "Anywhere but here," Daniel replied, half in a joking attempt to lighten his mood, and half because he really didn't care. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and probably had too much to drink, since he couldn't remember anything of the night apart from his conversation with Rose. That, he would never forget. He began to give his address, but Daniel's mouth slammed shut as the cab suddenly accelerated. A metallic taste filled his mouth as he bit his tongue. "Wait!" Daniel shouted, "Where are you going?" "Anywhere but here," the cabbie replied, eyes locked with Daniel's in the mirror. The cab swerved sharply around a corner, throwing its passenger to one side. Stars burst as his head hit the window and a ringing filled his ears. As the cab continued to pick up speed, tires screeching on every turn, Daniel could no longer protest as his focus was spent holding on to the 'oh-crap' strap and trying not to vomit. Glancing up, his eyes again met those of the driver, who for some reason had turned his head towards the back, no longer even watching the road before them. It wasn't a trick of the light, some corner of Daniel's mind dispassionately observed. His eyes really were glowing. Golden flames spilled from the sockets, licking the corner of the driver's cap and spilling sparks of liquid metal across the blackened beard. Those eyes caught Daniel's focus, seeming to draw him inward until, with a violent jolt, his head slammed the seatback in front of him and everything went dark.