And now I’m dying to know 
How he touches you 

She looked down at her watch.  Her eyes were beginning to swell from the tears.  It was almost 3.  Sean would be a pal and keep it open for her.  She hopped out of the car and walked in slowly.  Business was slow but then again it was almost closing time.  She made her way to the door.  Wonderful that was a full half a minute of not thinking about how some douchebag asshole is fucking your fiancé.  Images flashed across her face again, in this one the man lying next to Spencer was smiling cockily at Ashley in her head.

“Hey Ash!”  Sean frowned noticing that it was not a time to be happy.  “Whoa, woman you look like shit.” 

Ashley allowed the smallest, and meekest of smiles to flash on her face.

“Sean do me a favor, leave me alone with your alcohol.  I’ll close up.”

Sean knew what it meant, it had happened when Ashley’s father died, and again when her first successfully signed band fell apart.  It meant he gave Ashley the spare key and let her do her mourning her own way.  Taking off his bartending apron he took the key from its hook on the wall.  Approaching the broken brunette he kissed her on the head and hugged her to him.  It took all of Ashley’s will and strength not to break down into sobs in his arms. 

“You come talk to me when you’re ready ‘kay Ash?”  His soft voice comforted her.

“Okay.”  She said like an innocent child. 

Smiling he turned off all but a few lights by the bar, and locked up the shop from the outside. 

I can’t see him with you 
Why’d you go and break what’s already broken 

Ashley looked around.  Alone.  She thought a bitterly and approached the shelves.  Stroking the bottles as if the touch itself soothed her broken heart.  She grabbed the whiskey and took  a swig from the bottle.  The burning sensation gave her some happiness.  For hours now she had felt nothing but depression and desperation.  To feel something.  It was good.  Approaching the piano in the bar she touched the soft wood.  Sean had a pianist play every few nights.  And had amateur hours sometimes.  She sat down in the chair and felt at the familiar white and black keys.  They molded into her fingers as if returning home.  Funny she thought frowning, going back to Spencer always felt like going home…here she sat in a deserted bar with nothing but her whiskey and the piano and she felt comfortable.  A tune began to play into the sad lonely room that only hours ago was filled with happy chatter.  The music coiled its way into hard to reach places.  Between cracks in the walls, wrapping itself around the chairs and tables.  It coated the room in the sad tint of blue.