Bartender. Mix a drink, craft a memory.  
The clink of ice against glass echoes as I pour amber whiskey, a splash of bitters, and a twist of orange peel. The air hums with laughter, stories spilling like the drinks I serve. A stranger’s grin turns familiar under dim lights; a toast binds us in fleeting unity. Each cocktail—sharp gin fizz or smooth old fashioned—holds a moment: first dates, last goodbyes, or quiet victories. I stir, shake, and pour, weaving nostalgia into every sip. The bar’s a stage, and I’m the silent director, blending spirits with time. Years from now, they’ll recall the taste, the night, the feeling. Not me—just the drink. That’s the magic: I don’t make the memory; I set the scene. Sip by sip, it’s theirs to keep.