Top shelf, third bottle from the right.
Annie studied it.
Over recent weeks the liquid had shifted from sparkling sapphire, through glowing gold to radiant ruby.
But tonight it was pulsating purple, keening softly.
The bartender glanced warily around the empty bar, before setting it down beside Annie’s glass and disappearing out the back.
“Where’s Annie tonight?” said a regular later, nodding at the empty stool.
The bartender smiled. “Meeting up with the other girls.”
On the shelf the bottle radiated an excitable ruby hue, before dimming to a sparkling sapphire once again, as another girl entered the bar.
This is a re-titled, slightly modified re-run of The Hen Party, which caused some confusion on its last outing. Hopefully it’s clearer now. I might be slow getting round this week’s stories; the internet is on the blink again and currently running at 98% below the British Telecom average speed. It’s possible to take a short nap between clicking on a link and typing a comment. Thank you Rochelle, for your endeavours on behalf of Friday Fictioneers, and fingers crossed that all will be well with the publisher.