Nostalgia (P1 of 2)

She swept into my bar that night in a long, white flowing gown. You just don't see that very much in this part of town. She had that classy look to her, topped with a bit of brass. I could tell she was a lady, and I didn't have to ask. Her light-grey eyes looked almost steel as she gazed at me. She scoped the bar on a single pass with barely light to see. She didn't smile or say a word as she approached the bar. Nor did she speak to anyone; her eyes did not wander far. She asked me if the owner was anywhere around. I said I hadn't seen him which caused her face to frown. She stopped to look around again and seemed to realize at last. That most of the people drinking here were living in the past. I supposed she'd never been inside any bar before. (Continued on P2 of 2)