“What would it be like, your bar?” Mel told her. She described a menu that was hers from top to bottom, a veritable journey through her bartending career, all the drinks she’d ever poured into a glass with her blood and sweat metaphorically mixed in. She noted especially the low- and no-alcohol options. Prices would be as reasonable as she could make them. Wherever it was located, Mel would make sure it offered community space because a bar, in her dream world, should be more than a place to get a drink. She wanted book clubs and knitting circles and activists rotating through on a regular
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The dream
