Another Life

She sat at the end of the dimly lit bar unmoving as a mannequin. Her face shadowed by the long, black locks casting a purple sheen. His glances went unnoticed as she nursed the same drink for the hour he sat at the opposite end. His day was long and filled with difficult clients and buzzing cell phones he kept on the wood bar near his elbow. She was sad, he sensed that. He wasn't looking to hook up with anyone. Bachelorhood suited him far better and divorce was met as a civil arrangement. Something about her spoke to his normally reticent attitude. Perhaps it was the very seclusion she exuded that made so much sense.

The man crooked a finger at the bartender and the man walked over, drying a glass with a crisp white towel.

"Nodding toward the woman he said, "Send a martini, shaken, not stirred." The man nodded agreement and lifted the vodka to the shaker, added ice and they heard the cubes clinking against the fluid. He proffered a martini glass and spilled the chilled concoction into the glass, dropping two olives that swirled to the stem.

He walked to the woman who looked up and smiled slightly. The bartender tossed a glance to the benefactor who lifted his snifter of brandy slightly in her direction and dropped some bills on the glowing wood bar as he pocketed his phones and exited the bar.

The bartender wiped the spot where the gentleman sat. A crisp $100 sat as his tip. The bartender smiled and looked after the man. The woman turned toward the window and watched the man walk by. She lifted the glass in quiet salute and left the drink on the bar.

As she left, the bartender called after her, "Do you know him, Miss?

"I think we met in another life."

SRC

This is a freewrite from @mariannewest using today's prompt shaken not stirred
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