Chapter 58 Loser
- Jaxon
- The glass is cold in my hand, condensation dripping onto the worn bar top as I stare at the amber liquid swirling inside. The bar is dimly lit, reeking of stale beer and old regrets. It’s the kind of place no one asks questions—a hole in the wall where people go to forget. Perfect.
- I’m trying to forget too. Except I can’t.