Golden [h.s.]

1. whiskey, neat

"Fuck," I muttered, hurriedly running my fingers through my loose hair while looking at my reflection. My hair is a freaking mess, and I don't have the time to properly style it.

Sighing, I turn my head away quickly from the mirror, turning my attention to the mess behind me.

My hair, my bedroom, my life — all of it seem to be just one giant mess lately.

I look around my bedroom, doing a quadruple-check to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Just as I grab my keys from the bedside table, my cell buzzes in my pocket.

"Hello?" I answer breathlessly once I fish it out. I multitask, walking out my bedroom and grab my bag as I head to the door.

I pull it open, then lock my apartment door behind me before I rush down the hall to catch the elevator.

Please be on my floor, please be on my floor.

"Ella!" My friend, Lydia, screeches through the speaker.

I flinch, holding the phone away from my face as I press the down arrow button. My foot taps incessantly, and the elevator groans as it climbs up at a snail's pace.

Fuck this elevator.

I turn towards the stairs, skipping two at a time with my quick descent. "When does your shift end?" Lydia asks as I rush down the last set of stairs and make it into the lobby.

I've really gotta hurry.

"It starts in fifteen," I reply, pushing through the revolving doors and making my way into the night air.

The sounds of New York City fill my ears — people laughing, arguing, horns honking and music playing. I quickly hail down a taxi — guess luck is on my side for once — and get into the back.

I quickly tell the driver where I'm headed. Using the subway would be useless, considering just how late I already am. "I'm so fucking late," I mumble to Lydia on the phone.

I usually love coming to work when I have 15 minutes to spare — not when I have to work on freaking crunch time.

"Shit, I forgot you switched back to the late night shift," my friend replies. "I'm heading into Brooklyn later and I just wanted my partner in crime to come along," she laughs.

I smile and shake my head to myself, looking out the window and willing that time could magically stop so that I could make it into work on time.

Being a bartender may look intimidating to some, but I couldn't have been doing anything better. I loved the bar that I worked at and all the people that came in.

Every night working at the bar seemed to be an entirely different experience than the previous night. You'd be surprised just how much you learn about people when you're a bartender.

Humans are fascinating creatures, and I always enjoyed the conversations I've had over the past year with my amazing customers.

Not to mention, drunk people are fucking hilarious and weirdly insightful. The amount of stories and life lessons that I have just from what I've witnessed at work should win a world record; it's too much to count.

But, it's also what I love most about my job.

The taxi soon comes to halt at the end of the block, and I thank my lucky stars that the driver was quick.

"Lyds, I'm gonna have to go," I speak into my phone, momentarily forgetting that my best friend was still chattering away.

"Yes, yes, go! Call me when you finish your shift, no matter how late it is! We can still meet up if you aren't tired," my friend says. I hand the money over to the driver and climb out of the taxi.