Dawn agrees

"Want to grab a booth?" Kelly asked. "You can tell me all about it."

Dawn nodded, almost as if in a dream, and followed Kelly to the back of the bar. It was early still, there were few patrons, so they were out of earshot of the rest of the place. Dawn instantly felt more comfortable talking about her problems back here, and she wondered if that's why the woman had suggested it. Well of course she did, Dawn thought. She's very perceptive. I wonder what she meant by 'barroom psychologist' though. Such an odd turn of phrase.

As they crossed the room, she got her first real good look at Kelly. The woman was tall, blonde, with an athletic figure still curvy enough to fill her black cocktail dress; she was blessed with poise and grace, a posture that radiated confidence, her bare shoulders held up proudly. Dawn even felt a slight twinge of envy, and wondered what a woman like that was doing in this dive like this, let alone wasting her time listening to other people's problems, when she could've had any man in the place. No, forget place. She could've had any man in this town. Woman too.

But along with her envy Dawn felt another fleeting twinge of desire, as she wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips, to touch that cheek, to run her fingers through that immaculately styled hair. Like a film star, she thought. One of those great black and white screen legends. Lauren Bacall or Veronica Lake, all elegance and cigarettes, with a touch of danger, of mystery.

They slid into the booth, on opposite sides, and a little reluctantly, after Kelly prodded her with a smile, Dawn began. "O.K., so there's this dick named Quentin, and his is too short, which is why he's pissed off all the time..."

As she went into the details of their messy breakup, Dawn found her vehemence, even her anger, slipping away. Sure, she was ticked off at him, but there was just something about telling a stranger in a bar your problems that sort of put them into perspective. And there was the fact that this particular stranger was so breathtakingly beautiful that telling her these things felt like wasting her time. It was like bothering the President of the United States about a bent stop sign on your street corner. The further she went into her story, the less and less she cared to talk about Quentin and the more and more she was being drawn into Kelly's dark and mischievous eyes. "So anyway, I'm done with him," she said firmly. "It's over this time. For good."

A few moments earlier Kelly had signaled the bartender for refills and now as Dawn's story ended, the fresh drinks arrived. The tender took their empties away, and they raised their glasses in a second smile. Kelly smiled. "To a new Dawn," she said. "A new attitude."