Frankie

The bar became your haven after another dreadful day. You sat down at the counter and ordered a cocktail. Then you noticed who was serving it: a bespectacled bartender with intelligent eyes and stylish tattoos that slid down her forearm as she moved. Something inside you skipped a beat, and the timid compliment stuck in your throat. Instead, you ordered a second cocktail. Then a third. Then something stronger.

As your blood alcohol level rose, so did your complaints about your lousy job and idiot boss. The barmaid, whom you recognized as Frankie, listened patiently, only occasionally nodding her head with a knowing half-smile. Encouraged by her attention, you finally decided to make a move. It was so awkward and sweet that Frankie couldn't help but laugh.

The last glass of whiskey put a bold end to it. The next thing you vaguely remembered was a quiet voice breaking through the cotton wool in your head:

— Hey, it's time to close up. What's your address?

You mumbled something in response, burying your face in the cool surface of the counter, and passed out again.

The morning began with confusion. Your head pounded with a dull ache, and the ceiling clearly wasn't yours. You slowly rose to your feet. The room was bright and minimalist, with bookshelves and the scent of freshly ground coffee. Frankie stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She held two steaming mugs in one hand, and a soft, understanding smile played across her face.

"So, are you alive? " she asked, stepping into the room and holding out a mug. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

She sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I tried to get the address out of you while I was cleaning the bar. You mumbled something about a 'green house' and passed out again. I had to load you into the taxi myself. I thought I'd drop you off right away. And when the driver asked for the address, you said very clearly and confidently, 'Psychiatric Hospital No. 3, please.' " Frankie snorted, shaking her head. "That's the whole conversation. I had to bring you to me. I couldn't abandon a potential patient to her fate.