Stirred, Not Shaken
The Beginning: It was a stormy night in London. The kind of night where you could barely see your own hand in front of your face. Yet, there I was, walking along the dark, damp cobblestone streets, searching for the entrance to the underground casino.
The Middle: Inside, the atmosphere was thick with the smell of cigarettes and overpriced alcohol. I made my way to the bar and ordered a martini, shaken not stirred. That’s when I saw him. He was tall, dark, and handsome, wearing a perfectly tailored suit. My heart skipped a beat. And just like that, we were locked in a gaze that seemed to last a lifetime. I could tell he was no ordinary man.
The End: We spent the night talking, laughing, and gambling. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Everything about him was mysterious and intriguing. But just as quickly as it began, it was over. The sun was rising, and he had to go. He left me with a note, simply saying, “Until next time, my dear.” And with that, he was gone.
As I walked back to my hotel, I couldn’t help but wonder who he really was. Was he a spy? A millionaire? The possibilities were endless. But one thing was for sure, I was hooked. From that moment on, nothing would ever be the same. I was destined to find him again, to unravel the mystery surrounding him. And with every shaken, not stirred martini I ordered, I was one step closer to finding him.
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