She sat at the bar, martini in hand, and thought back over the last few days. Here she was, alone in the big city and no place to go. The martini was a welcome friend.
The new sweater brightened her mood as she looked down at the beads and smiled her crooked smile. Ah yes, every other woman at the party was envious of her taste and style and they did not make her welcome. But, she was a tough cookie and had a laissez faire attitude, so the slight had meant nothing to her.
She'd rather be alone than in middle of 'that' scene anyway. The city called to her, the dark streets, the little hidden yarn shops, the places where 'her' people hung out...others like her, who knew a good yarn and quality fiber. She popped the last olive into her mouth, picked up her pocket book, and headed toward the door. Just as she reached for the door handle she stopped, spun around, and blew a kiss to the younger man in the corner.