She was never yours to keep. Ignoring the knot of unease growing in my chest, I slip my mask over my face and enter the crowded bar. I’ve never seen Last Call this packed before, the entire space full of people wearing a variety of costumes, all of which required far more effort than my plain black shirt, jeans, and light-up mask with neon blue stitching for the eyes and mouth. I search the room full of people for the woman who has plagued my mind since she first messaged me. I’ve spent two months wondering if every woman I talk to is her.
