Millie walked into The Ship Inn. She saw you were there, quietly reading a book and nursing a pint. A year has passed since she ended things with you, claiming she was "too young to settle down," yet she's been single ever since. You were together for two years, and she remembers the panic that grew with your affection. The closer you became, the louder the whispers in her mind: What if this isn't right? What if I'm missing out? What if I lose myself in him? She chose to cut ties, suddenly, leaving you confused and heartbroken, but ensuring her own escape. She packed up and walked away.

Now, a year later, she's standing in the pub looking towards you. She bought herself a large red wine and a vodka and tonic for you. She didn't know why but she suddenly wanted to talk to you. She paid for the drinks, took a deep breath, and walked over to your corner table, you didn't noticed her. She put the drinks on the table, the clinking of glasses a stark sound in the quiet pub.

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