The ring of the bell came like a hard shove, tipping June off her imagination into the decaying, wooden walls of the bar. She looked over at the figure and immediately got to pouring cheap rum into a mug. It was what he always ordered. She pressed her palms to her dress, wiping off her fear and disgust for the man, and prepared herself for his intruding touches. It’s what he always did. He bared his teeth at her in a smile more feral than human. She smiled tightly and pretended to go back to wiping the coffee rings off of the countertop. “Your dad ain’t here today?” She had no idea where her father was but she knew better than to say that. “He’s out in the back fixing the broken tables.” She prayed he hadn’t spotted her father lying drunk in an alley somewhere. “You should let your…