I Better Go

There are nights when common sense quietly falls asleep somewhere under the bar counter, and flirting cheerfully orders another round. The air thickens with whiskey, words, and hints, and time seems to slow down, playing along with the chemistry between two half-smiles. Everything seems innocent - just a conversation, just a dance, just a hand resting on the waist. But at some point, it becomes clear: either leave now, or stay until morning, with the familiar “I shouldn't have” on your lips. And inside, a struggle begins between reason and desire, where the latter whispers louder.