Old Timers.

Probably the most disturbing, disgusting bar ever.

Oh yeah, that's where is work. As a bartender in New York people take you as a run for their money. They try to, and I'm quoting "help you.", but not really. I don't even have to tell you what they do.

Also this bar is full of people trying to find their "Soulmates" but I think that stuff is absolute crap. It doesn't make sense, but everyone says I'm wrong

"I'm so sorry. Hey beautiful."

That line has been tattooed on my wrist since I was ten. I'm 24 now, and I have still haven't found my soulmate. It's starting to fade so maybe my soulmate is dying on the other side of the world. I shake my head out of the thoughts. It's just a A mark on my wrist probably, but what if it's not.? All theses thoughts pass through my head, I smash into this man. He spills his water all over my clothes. He lands right on top of me. He has brown curly hair pulled into a ponytail, greenish eyes that shimmer, and freckles. He has a slight tint of pink spread across his cheeks, so do I. When he helps me up, he looks right at me.

"I'm so sorry." He looks at me. "Hey beautiful." I held back a gasp. This is the man, my soulmate.

"It's ok sir, your not to bad yourself, freckle boy." I say. He gasps. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to a tattoo. It repeats what I just said.

"I guess we're soul mates." He whispers. I smile. I take his hand.

"Yeah, I guess we are."

"Well, what's your name." He says.

"Y/N L/N. Yours."

"John Laurens and it is a pleasure to meet you, my dearest Y/N."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, my dear Laurens." He handed me his phone then I handed him mine. We exchanged numbers.

*Time Skip*

I woke up to the sounds of crying.

"Berkely, calm down." I coo to the youngling. She is two years old, and her father isn't hear to help. John Lauren's was sent to war in the continental army. I sat down on the couch with Berkely. I got knock at the door, it can't be John. I walked up to it, it was Eliza.

"Eliza what's wrong."

"I have this letter for you. It's best if you read it alone." I nod. I close the door and instantly think of the worst. What's going on. I open the letter.

Dear, Miss Laurens,

On Tuesday the 27th, John Laurens was killed in a gunfight against British troops retreating from South Carolina. The war was already over. As you know, John dreamed of emancipating and recruiting 3000 men for the first all-black military regiment.

His dream of freedom for these me dies with him.

He wished this for you, one last time. He loved you, he needed you. The last letter he sent to you ended with Ever Yours, John Lauren's. I wish this letter could end the same. We send you the best of wishes.

Loving Wishes
General George Washington.

I don't believe it. He's dead. My soulmate is dead. I check my wrist of the tattoo we shared when we first met. It's not there. The only biggest memory I have of him. The first thing he said to me is gone. Every word he said to me, is a word of the past.

John Laurens, my loving husband, died for his freedom.

My dearest Laurens, I will see you on the other side.