Sixty miles north of Santa Fe,
JB sits on a counter stool of shabby bar in downtown alley.
Two stools next to him, there is a lady in a cheep dress, wearing 50 dollar worth of perfume.
She drinks gin with salt on her hand and a piece of lime.
Lime goes well with gin.
JB calls elderly bartender and asks for gimlet.
" It is too early for gimlet."
The lady smiles at JB as she licks salt on her hand with her lizard-like tongue.
Her clear green eyes are hard to stare at.
"I am afraid I've lost my considerate phrases somewhere during my journey."
Bright encounter is followed by a painful separation.
Even such natural sequence is now making JB nervous.

Farewell is a brief moment of death.
JB leaves the bar, unfinished gimlet, and the lady.