Angel or Demon? Two

A lone girl sits at a dark and musty bar upon a torn stool. She's smoking- the smoke making soul releasing, Van Gogh reminiscent swirls in the air. It's the early hours of morning and the bar is ghostly. Her face is tear stained and her brunette hair lays dead on her shoulders. The air is brisk and she shivers lightly in her tar black dress. It's short and black, the sleeve of it cascading slightly down her shoulder. Her mascara tumbles down her cheeks, her own personal death mask, making hard to make out some of her features. The only thing exotic about her is her eyes; hazel- like an almost hypnotizing crystallized amber. She puts out her cigarette in her drink and stares at a wall covered in glasses. Her eyebrows knit together as her reflection is shown in many of the glasses. A few tears swell as her mouth opens a little and she mumbles something indistinguishably hopeless. The bartender comes over to refill her drink and pat her hand. She pulls away and looks away, sighing deeply and gets up. Her heels pad along the muck covered carpet. She glides past the pool tables, past the TVs and the last few patrons. She stumbles all the way out the back door, hugging her arms, and out into the bitter evening where she seems to melt away with the misty snow.