The Soldier and the Siren

“Another?” The bartender, rag in hand, paused in his wiping of the bar top directly in front of David.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” He pushed his empty bottle closer to the man and reached to grab another peanut out of the bowl to his right.

“Mind if I steal a few of those?”

The voice stopped David’s hand in mid motion, its tenor so familiar he would know it anywhere. It was the voice from the radio. The one that had lulled him to sleep as certainly as a lullaby.

Almost fearful to look and find the exterior package didn’t match the image he’d conjured in his mind while listening to her, he turned his head in her direction. “Help yourself.”