A Bar at the Folies-Bergère by Édouard Manet

She Smiles Flirtatiously

The Barkeep lips curl, an edge of something sharp in her smile. “You again?” she opens. The Patron’s eyes narrow—so she wants to play, does she?—and he leans in to reply. “I try not to make an impression. Seems I failed with you.”

“I only forget the pretty ones.” She winks as she hands him the menu, carefully brushing her fingers against his just enough to leave him wondering. “And I forget what you drink. What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey,” he says, “preferably Japanese. I see you have the Miyagikyo.” She nods, embarrassed. How did he catch her off-guard so quickly? “You know your bottles,” she admits, “but I’m afraid we’re out. I’m surprised it’s still on there.”

“Then I’ll have a cocktail,” he says, “something to sip on, preferably whiskey. Surprise me. I’m here to read while I wait for a friend.” The Barkeep stares him down, looking for a clue. She notices