What happens when a sharp-tongued bartender overhears a scheme to wreck her best friend’s marriage—and her hand drifts to the gun under the bar?
💥 Flash Fiction Prompt (190 words)
The neon sign outside hummed like a bad hangover, and the bar smelled of gin, smoke, and last chances. I was polishing glasses when I caught it—the hissed voice of a woman at the far end of the bar. She leaned in close to her friend, eyes glittering like stolen diamonds. “He doesn’t even see me coming. By next month, her husband will be mine.”
Her friend giggled, clinking her martini glass, and I froze. The “her” she was talking about? My best friend. The one who trusted me with every secret, every heartbreak, every hope. My jaw tightened. My hand slipped under the bar, fingers wrapping around the cold steel grip of the pistol tucked there for emergencies.
I wasn’t planning on using it—or at least, that’s what I told myself. But in that instant, I wasn’t a bartender. I was a judge, jury, and maybe executioner. Wisecracks usually saved me, but tonight sarcasm felt too small. Choices loomed larger than any drink I could pour.
❓ 3 Reader Questions for Eye-Popping Flash Fiction
- Does the bartender confront the woman with words, wit, or the weapon?
- How does loyalty to her best friend shape her next move?
- What unexpected twist could flip the bartender’s decision on its head?