It's Still Life

Dancing with Lions

She anchors her black stiletto heel to the bar stool; the ritual wait for a man that doesn’t exist, polishing the fantasy of him until it shines.

A muffled laugh works loose, a private rebellion echoing in her throat — the kind you make when a voice you invent leans in and whispers to the hollow of your ear; gin can be like that, a soft liar, a collaborator in rounding off the jagged edges of a loneliness.

She smirks as a filthy joke lifts to the surface: her true flag, a raw and honest thing, a reminder that her humour sits closer to the bone than the vows she no longer rehearses; she scans this liminal space of lacquered light and cigarette ghosts.

Who else, she wonders, holds this same hollow silence beneath the chatter and electric buzz in the Six Sentence Bistro & Café.

“…Brigid?”

The bartender’s voice cuts cleanly through the spell, reminding her that even lions pause when someone knows your name.

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The title of this Six is borrowed from the featured song. Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story including the word “vow”.  Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2026.