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I sat down at the restaurant around 9pm. A late dinner, for sure, but there wasn't much else to do in this town except work. Almost no one was left in the place. The wait staff was congregating near the kitchen, and the bartender was cleaning up. Dullsville, that's for sure, but at least the steak wasn't half bad.
The door opened and a woman barged in, walked up to the bar, and ordered a drink. I didn't hear what it was but it appeared to be double shot of something, from the brief glance I got before she poured it down her throat. She then slammed the glass down and demanded another one. She tried to sit down on a bar stool but that's where she put her purse. Frustrated, she picked up her purse and threw it across the room, landing near my table and spilling out some of its contents. She sat down and drank her drink with tears welling in her eyes.
I picked up the purse, put everything back in and walked it over to her. She was not half bad looking if you got past the mascara running down her face. She was in her mid-30's but the odd thing was she was wearing a long coat - quite odd for an evening hovering ankara escort near 70. *quot;What's wrong?*quot; I asked.

*quot;My goddamn bastard asshole husband, that's what. He doesn't give a shit about me anymore. I guess I'm miss fat