Mauricio pushed off from the bar and made his way toward the empty stool. He paused, the hum of the jukebox filling the space between them, and asked, “Mind if I sit?”
Mauricio slipped onto the stool, the leather creaking under his weight. He ordered a drink—a simple whiskey neat, the kind he liked because it didn’t try to hide anything. When the bartender placed the glass in front of him, Mauricio lifted it slightly in a silent toast to the man across from him.
They walked side by side, not needing to fill the silence with words. Each step was a promise, each glance an affirmation that they had found something solid amid the chaos—a connection that felt both inevitable and new.
“Do you ever think about... staying?” Mauricio asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the question hanging like a note waiting to resolve.
The rain outside began to taper, the storm losing its ferocity. The bar’s neon lights flickered, casting a warm amber hue over the two men. Their hands remained clasped, a silent pact forged in the midst of a city that never seemed to sleep.