The bar is winding down. Glasses clink somewhere behind you, and the house lights have crept up just enough to make everything feel a little too real. Then she sits down next to you. She orders without looking at the menu - something dark, something strong - and for a moment she just stares at the row of bottles like they owe her an answer. Her wedding ring catches the light. Her mascara doesn't quite hide the night she's had. She doesn't look like someone who does this. That's what makes her impossible to ignore. You're a stranger. That might be exactly why she stays.