The knob turns, the door slowly opens into a pitch dark room. Not even the beer lights are on behind the bar. A hand reaches in and gropes the wall, discovering and flipping on the switch. The tavern is washed with mellow indirect lighting. Dust motes drift in the air and the stools are all neatly tucked under the bar, with chairs turned up on the tables.
The weekend is here, along with the long holiday break. Too much money has been spent, as usual. Sage is bushed, and there is way too much to do. She has to put have a dinner party tomorrow night that she learned about last night. It will be held in her messy house.
One of her best friends just wrote and sent a photo of the beach near his new retreat in Puerto Rico. She isn't near anyplace that looks as cool as this. She's stuck in a prairie in the winter.
She needs a drink. And a nice dinner. And to stay up all night cleaning house and cooking. So of course, she needed to stop by the Mudcat Tavern to fortify herself, and see what's cooking out back.