Adroit.

clever or skillful in using the hands or mind. /əˈdroit/

The cafe was tucked up an alleyway, hidden to the untrained eye, like a knife strapped to a woman’s thigh. If you did find it, you’d walk up that creaking staircase, knock just so, and Missy would let you in. Or not. It all depended on the weather, her mood, her hangover, or some combination of all three.

If she did open the latch and let you in, you’d see a Grand piano, leather couch, and bookshelf filled with dead French poets. Scuffs on the cedar floors told stories of their own. A late-night card game turned sour when Missy spotted a slick out-of-towner stacking the deck, so she broke her favorite bottle of cabernet over the cheater’s head. A decision she still regrets—should have used the cheap stuff.

No one knew Missy’s age. The way she danced around the cafe with adroit flair, pouring wine in one hand and counting tips in the other, she could still be in her twenties. But those weary eyes concealed behind her mascara told a different story. Sacrifice and loss. The sort that would leave those dead poets howling. But she would never tell of it. She would barely open the latch to her cafe, let alone her sorrow. And when it started to become too much, she would close early, walk over to the old record player, shut her eyes, and let “La Vie En Rose” carry her somewhere far away.

This is a Friday newsletter. Each week I pick a new word I’m trying to learn, then use it in a short story. Suggest a word in the comments. See ya next week Wordos!