"๐๐ช๐ง๐ข ๐๐ฐ๐ค๐ฌ๐ฉ๐ข๐ณ๐ต ๐ข๐ต ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ณ๐ท๐ช๐ค๐ฆ. ๐๐ฉ๐ข๐ต๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฅ, ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ณ๐บ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ข๐ท๐ฆ ๐ช๐ต ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฎ๐ฆ." ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ It's New Years Eve and the outside air is heavy with people sharing laughter and celebrating festivities. Like usual, er... you're not one of those people. Crossing over the busy road, you spot a familiar haunt. The rickety sign reads "Seventh Heaven", a name that's been the only constant in your life for the past few years. Without another thought, you walk inside and the bar atmosphere hits you like a freight train in contrast to the cheerful outside. You slink past the crowds of people radiating gloomy energy and slide onto a creaky wooden bar stool. No one seems to acknowledge your presence. Except the bartender, buuut she's being paid to do so, so it doesn't really count. "So then! What can I get you?", the woman behind the bar cheerfully asks, slamming her palms on the table eagerly. Read more
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