Shelly stared through the mist at the red neon in front of her, not quite ready to concede that this was it. She’d got used to things not making sense down here but this was getting way beyond weird.
Lita turned the corner onto Mission Street. One hand clutched the lapels of her trench coat closed – her useless attempt to block out the wind.
Martha watched as the news crew from WSAZ parked their van and exited. A prickle of excitement and a little pinch of anxiety made her heart beat faster.
This is by design. This calls out to the Friday and Saturday nights where even by nine o’clock, your boundaries and your borders have started to slip a little.
The Mission Bar was one of the most notorious drinking establishments on Mars.
You know, it’s quite clichéd but it’s always women who come here, and always over a certain age, if you know what I mean?
31/01/2010 Image – “Mission Bar” by George London