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Chapter 8 First Encounter (I)

  • The bartender poured me the eighth glass of tequila, the rich amber liquid gleaming enticingly under the dim, sultry lights of the club. With a practiced hand, he slid the drink toward me, the glass clinking softly against the polished wooden bar. Without hesitation, I seized it and brought it to my lips, savoring the familiar warmth and the fiery burn that marked each sip. I swallowed hard, the tequila igniting a fire within me, momentarily drowning the turmoil of my thoughts.
  • After downing the shot in one swift, experienced motion, I exhaled a satisfied sigh. It had been one of those nights where I felt the need to drown my sorrows in alcohol, and this particular bottle of tequila had become my unlikely companion on this solitary journey.
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