Post by Roxanne Abernathy on May 14, 2020 17:39:06 GMT -5
The bar was empty now, and though there were a few visitors sleeping over at the inn, Roxanne knew from experience that they wouldn't be able to hear one lone voice coming from the main hall. Even on the Sparrow's busiest nights, it took quite a ruckus to be anything more than a muffled chatter over on that side of things. Knowing that, she had no qualms about drinking a glass or two of dandelion wine and singing as she cleaned the tables and floors on a Sunday night.
The Sparrow was technically open at all hours, and she and her brother took turns being on call for any guests that might need a room in the middle of the night or early morning. Normally she napped in the office and left a bell on the front desk when it was her turn, but Sunday nights were deep clean nights. She enjoyed the time to herself after the crowds cleared out and the lanterns burned low, the fire in the back still crackling comfortingly in the large room. The ritual helped to reset both her and the bar for the week to come, and left her feeling oddly refreshed despite being up all night.
"Red is the rose, that in yonder garden grows," she sang in a warm alto as she leaned over one of the tables to wipe it down. The pine scent of her soapy water filled the bar, helping to neutralize the odor of spilled beer. "Fair is the lily of the valley," she continued as she scooted her bucket to the next table with the side of her foot, then dunked and wrung out her rag in the warm water.
The Sparrow was technically open at all hours, and she and her brother took turns being on call for any guests that might need a room in the middle of the night or early morning. Normally she napped in the office and left a bell on the front desk when it was her turn, but Sunday nights were deep clean nights. She enjoyed the time to herself after the crowds cleared out and the lanterns burned low, the fire in the back still crackling comfortingly in the large room. The ritual helped to reset both her and the bar for the week to come, and left her feeling oddly refreshed despite being up all night.
"Red is the rose, that in yonder garden grows," she sang in a warm alto as she leaned over one of the tables to wipe it down. The pine scent of her soapy water filled the bar, helping to neutralize the odor of spilled beer. "Fair is the lily of the valley," she continued as she scooted her bucket to the next table with the side of her foot, then dunked and wrung out her rag in the warm water.
