Her first instinct was to buy

Jim Beam

like old times. She couldn't remember when she drank it last. Theo nly kind of whiskey she drank these days were single malt. She'd drink it neat, no ice or anything else: the scotch alone. She learned this from Imogen's ex brother in law, a sophisticated gentleman type who always wore leather boots in the winter, suede loafers in the summer. His clothes were made of material you wouldn't find at TJMaxx or Macy's. The old school wool or linen that would be around decades later.

She still thought of this man although nothing had ever happened between them. It had been a few months since she last saw him. Soon after Imogen suddenly disappeared to go god knows where the gentleman stopped coming in. Not right away though. He had continued to visit, to lend a supporting hand. His brother Alan had stopped coming in immediately once his wife had run away. Too embarrassing for Alan to be seen. It was a small town where people didn't have much to talk about.

The gentleman would come in and make sure the baristas were okay. He'd ask without prying whether they had heard from Imogen. When the girls asked him if he'd learn anything new, he'd be direct and honest. He came in less and less as no news of Imogen came in. 
 
McKayala texted to keep in touch but he would never reply back with much and they never arranged to meet. Eventually she felt like she was imposing so she stopped saying much. For Christmas she had said a Happy Christmas Eve message and he had responded with a Merry Christmas the following day. She smiled at that. Thought of it. And then thought it was stupid how much she still thought of him.

At the liquor store she ended pointed to the mid shelf. "Jim Beam, please," she said. The man behind the counter limped over and grabbed the fifth. Yes. A fifth of Jim Beam. Just like old times. The single malt scotch days had been nice. But it wasn't her style.