Frank Castle ⁸

The bass pulses through the club, vibrating beneath my feet as colored lights sweep across the crowded dance floor. The air smells of perfume, citrus, and spilled drinks, with voices and laughter blending into the music.

Then she walks in.

For a second, everything else seems to fade into the background. My breath catches as I look up from behind the bar. She’s beautiful, beautiful enough that I forget what I’m doing.

Then her eyes meet mine.

I immediately look away, suddenly very interested in the drink I’m preparing for a customer. I busy myself with the shaker, ice clinking loudly inside it, pretending I hadn’t just been staring.