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

Junebell steps out of the alley and into a wider commercial street, slick with rain and alive with neon. Exhaust, fried meat, and wet concrete roll over her in a sour, tempting wave.

Traffic hisses past. Storefronts blaze in pink and blue reflections, and every puddle looks like a mirror pointing toward another bar, another liquor store, another chance.

Junebell drifts to the curb, pockets empty, chin lifted toward the signs. Her boots splash through a shallow puddle as she scans the block for the easiest score.

At the corner, a delivery driver in a rain jacket wheels a hand truck through the crosswalk, keeping one eye on his stack of boxes and one eye on Junebell.

Farther down the street, a liquor store sign buzzes and flickers, throwing a bright stripe across the wet pavement like an invitation.

Junebell angles toward the curb and gives the delivery driver her smallest, least convincing poor-little-me look. Rain beads on the boxes between them as the hand truck rattles in place.

He shifts his load away from her reach, shoulders tight, but his tone stays tired instead of angry. The neon from the liquor store sign flashes over his rain jacket, then slips off the wet street.

The answer lands flat. Junebell gets no bottle, only a guarded look and a clear boundary, while the driver turns his attention back to the boxes he needs to drop.

Across the street, the liquor store sign keeps buzzing under the rain, bright enough to feel personal.

Junebell leans into the driver’s space just enough to make him notice the smell before he can look away. She names the price in the ugliest terms she has, and the man’s face tightens at the threat of cleaning her mess off his work clothes.

He jerks a bottle free from the hand truck and pushes it toward her with two fingers like it might bite. Rain ticks off the cardboard and the liquor store sign flashes across the glass.

Junebell gets the bottle. The driver yanks the rest of the load back against his chest, eyes already sliding past her toward the curb and the job he still has to finish.

Behind them, the hidden banging inside the bar keeps thudding through the wall, but out here the rain and neon swallow it fast. The street opens in front of Junebell, wet and bright, with the store waiting across the road.