The Mysterious Man

Noon. Jesse was still slumped at the bar counter, propping her chin up with one hand while idly using the fingers of the other to spin the ice cubes in her glass. Another day of drunken oblivion. She had always felt that this was all her life would ever be. A fake, incompetent preacher muddling through life and waiting to die. Maybe that was all there was to it. Neither good nor bad? As she thought this, the bar doors were pushed open once more. "One whiskey, and one milk.