A wooden door, a heavy slab of oak stands hidden sunken in the walls of an assuming alley way.
Dark and ominous, it stands guard keeping away those who are unaware of its secrets.
Beyond the door is a cavern of red velvet and dark brown timber weather and aged.
Above is a gothic canopy inlaid with dark and dirty antique gold.
Along the walls gas lamps provide a dim yet warm light that dances around the room.
In the corner lies a long laquered bar of wood with secrets from decades past carved within it.
Beyond the table is a patient master who lends an ear to those in need of company, confession, or compassion.
Tonight, a young man spins a golden band on the bar while the master mixes a potion of liquers and seltzer.
The young man imbues the drink and lets his hand rest heavily on the ring.
It's a potion for the weakened, sick, and the weary that sets troubles and worries to sail off into a dark abyss.
Again, the young man spins the ring. It spins and spins like a ballerina in an empty class room.
A short but brief smile visits the young man's face as the fleeting memories of pink slippers, tutus, and a soft smile on soft lips enter his mind.
The ring spins around the bar table and clashes into the glass of tonics and falls dead.
He winces as remorse and melancholy begins to pool in his eyes.
The young man orders more medicine for a sick heart and another secret is etched into the bar table.
In an unassuming alley way, a heavy oak door protects the secrets of its patrons.