Somewhat related to @ZetharUnited, ReduceReuseRecycle?

“Listen? Don’t you hear it?” He said to the tempo of an old song that only Joan really liked. Martha couldn’t be bothered, it was a late night already in the bar, and it looked like the bartender wasn't all that responsive at their club's entry, which was fine by Martha, between Joan and Henry they should all properly sober up.

But would they? For a club dedicated to mathematically deduced predictions, there was many a thing they took by chance. And sobriety during a national holiday was one of the easiest bets to make.

“I’d like something-” she looked over at Joan’s wilted self, “non-alcoholic?

“I thought so, you guys seem to need a stiff tea.”

“Yeah probably, do you even serve that?”

“Not to customers, at least not hot. but I could fetch some from the staff room if you buy something else.”

“Really? You won’t get in trouble for that?” Martha was a bit surprised at the offer.

“Yeah, almost no one who works here has time for tea. Besides, the boss can’t care if you're paying anyway.”

“That’s clever, I’ll take that then.” She was then set up with hot tea, and some curiosity while she at least sobered up. Joan ordered orange juice while Henry asked for a ginger ale. All on the same tab of course, it was their party after all.

“So, pretty busy.” she said, noticing the otherwise empty bar, they seemed to be the last people there.

“Yeah, I always thought this place had such big crowds before actually working here. My perspective was a bit off as it turns out.”

“That sounds nice. There’s a lot of heavy lifting when you're working for tips.”

“Not really, I’m not often an overworker but this is kinda boring, present company excluded.”

“What high praise,” 

“Damn right.”

They spent the rest of their time like that, talking rather candidly about what they did. Sandy Lewin, the bartender was apparently a somewhat disinterested person, taking life in stride but rarely concerning herself with the particulars.

Martha had known many people like that, most in her own family, but it seemed that Sandy was at least a sensible kind otherwise. She at least had enough curiosity to fain interest in the group's mathematical exploits, though she’d seemed a bit dissatisfied with the numerical aspect of it, tips were enough math for her.

Martha ended up talking often with the younger woman, this to spite the mathematical improbability of connecting with someone without sharing phone numbers. Henry pointed out the flaw in thinking that way, as while it’s fairly rare for a person to go out of their way to meet with people outside a five mile radius for social calls, it was also fairly rare for people to do it for work or entertainment either.

Martha being the betting kind was a bit annoyed by the lacking romance of that perspective.

It was really no matter in the end, as the year went by and more of their predictions were at least semi-proven. It was a good enough excuse to visit their favorite bar, though things had apparently changed.

During that time, Sandy Lewin had quit.

It was rather disheartening, as while Martha wasn’t much more than an acquaintance, she’d almost expected to be informed of Sandy’s changing work history. 

“It’s silly to be grieving for a bartender that ain’t dead.” Joan told her chiding at the new but fallow ground of Martha’s fascination.

“Yeah, so what? She’s an interesting young lady, and I wanted to see her.”

“Yeah whatever, you just want a captive audience.” she prodded, Joan was a terrible girl. Henry at least had the decency to rub her back while he picked on her

The trouble with drinking away your feelings was that you often end up in strange long undisturbed places in your mind. This was where Martha strayed, thinking about her rightfully hurt feelings.

That sense of failure, a confused and distanced grief.

Martha thinks about her aunt, whom she was very close to when she died. How her aunt was never going to know her, after that time when, between despair and hospice she’d had an episode, and couldn’t help any longer.

How after that time when their family gathered round her empty body, and screamed and cried, and foretold of her as a saint, and a harlot, and a-n inspiration. 

She was ignorant, heaven, hell or a body all anew, the memory of her would move and shift and change, day by day, more than the woman herself ever did. But she was stuck with last impressions.

Martha didn’t like that quality in life, that there were so many people that would simply never have the chance to see the growth in others.

She didn’t want that, on stubbornness or for herself. With the clarity of sobriety she’d recognize why it really wasn’t a fair epiphany to have while balls out drunk. But it didn’t stop her from remembering this important bit of insight.

It didn’t change the facts between her and the bartender, or her day job, or Martha’s other responsibilities.

She didn’t even have the girl's number, all the revelations in the world weren’t going to make that connection. It was a bad way to think, but Martha didn’t feel like being bright at the time.

If you want something done well, you should sleep on it a bit, but procrastination wasn’t really her strong suit. So instead, she moved forward with an idea. 

She went ahead and searched, Sandy Lewin, like a grown up and ended up with an answer. Math wasn’t her deal but she was trying her hand at a new skill.

Divination, of all things. It was less a book-end than proof of a point. Everything looks strange on the outside, and the thought that this was shared, was more than enough to redirect her.

The thought felt old, the fire even more so, but she wanted to see how it’d work. An expansion of this silly moment in her life.

ZetharUnited, is gonna be big!