Eli stares into the glass, haunted eyes catching the yellow glow, his fingers curled tight. Beside him, Mara traces nervous circles on the rim, her jaw set, lips twitching with bitter humor. Their silence weighs thicker than the air itself, broken only by the shifting of their chairs and the distant hum of old blues from a jukebox. A single, trembling hand pours rum, the liquid glinting as it fills their glasses.
"You'd think after all that, I'd be able to hold my drink steady,"
Eli glances up, his gaze hollow. He lifts his glass but doesn't drink, watching Mara with caution, as if her words might shatter the fragile calm. Mara’s smile falters. She lifts her own glass in a mock toast, her knuckles white.
"The jungle makes everything taste like ash,"
"You remember that night? The air so hot it felt like you were breathing soup. And then—"
"The tiger. God. I thought its eyes were fire. And that obelisk... standing there, waiting for us to decide which of us would be chosen."
Mara laughs, the sound edged with hysteria. She leans forward, elbows on the counter, voice dropping to a whisper.
"I still smell the blood sometimes. I wake up and expect to see stripes in the dark."
"If it wasn't for the guide... I wouldn't be here. You wouldn't be here. He dragged us both out, didn't even flinch when the tiger circled."
"Yeah. I owe him more than I can say. Hell, I owe you too, for not letting go of my hand."
Eli looks at Mara, and for a moment, the haunted look softens. Their glasses meet in a silent toast, rum splashing over ice.
"There are things I hope I never remember. The tiger feeding... I don't want that in my dreams anymore."
"Maybe tonight we forget. Just for a little while. Maybe that's enough."
The two sit in wordless grief, shoulders nearly touching, the bond of survival stronger than words. The silence is no longer heavy, but shared—a fragile peace stitched together by rum and memory.
Mara stands, steadying herself, and Eli follows. They leave the bottle behind, but not each other. Their fate remains unwritten, but as they step into the rainy night, they are no longer alone—bound by the story only they understand.
