Junebell's Story - A Very Drunk Goblin, and a Terrible Apartment Building

The Bartender snaps the paperwork folder open beside the register, eyes already on the invoice as the crate lands with a thud on the counter.

The Delivery Driver squeezes past Junebell, shoulder brushing her side, and mutters a quick apology without slowing.

For a second, the bar’s attention is split, the tap still running and nobody’s hand on it.

Junebell stands within reach of the unguarded handles while The Bartender scans the paperwork, jaw tight, trying to finish fast.

The back door hangs propped open to the alley, letting in a strip of cooler night air and the sound of the truck outside.

Junebell ghosts one hand over the shelf, snags a bottle by the neck, and tucks it under her arm without a splash.

At the same time, she tips in for one last swallow from the tap, cold beer catching her throat as the handle keeps hissing.

She turns on her heel and pads for the back door, bottle hugged tight, the open alley already waiting.

The Bartender looks up from the invoice a beat too late, eyes snapping from the crate to the gap where Junebell was.

From the doorway, the Delivery Driver glances back, then keeps moving toward the truck as if they want no part of it.

Outside, the idling truck throbs through the open door while Junebell clears the threshold with the bottle.