The day began with a drink. A long pour of a dark aromatic liquid into a small crystal glass. The bottle hit the desk with a small thud. Droplets bleed into the Cereal Magazine settled elegantly next to a MacBook. The day had just begun yet the night was still strong. Nothing had brought out such primal and exuberant emotion as last night. It was a night months in the making. A night that took careful planning. Painstaking execution and deliverance. The carved red door opened. Outside streetlights shed an incandescent glow onto the aged wooden floors. A comfortable gain of vocals could be heard from the room. A coat rack stood lonesome in the corner. Peacoats and anaracks hung. A female clothed in a Helmut Lang dress took people’s attention away from their drinks. The bartender finished a mojito and slide it towards a well dressed man. Many drinks later the bar began to clear; it was time. The floor creaked as well-worn Chelsea boots walked towards the bar. The bartender looked intrigued. A hand was placed against a bottle of bourbon and a glass was poured. The bartender took note, that wasn’t his doing. Shorts words were spoken with careful delivery. The bartender’s broad shoulders crowded the bar as he made his way over. Jessica cleared the glass and poured another. The bartender was taken back by Jessica’s petite appearance but grand alcoholic appetite. Words were spoken. Footsteps lead up to the loft above. Sheets were pulled back. Sweat became intertwined with the intricate white fabric. Clothes reversed their actions. The sounds of the streets were heard as Jessica woke up back in her apartment. She reached for a new bottle. The day began with a drink.