The Bystander: A Short Story

The night sky was clouded with a tired haze, sending the city into an emotional collapse of anything exciting. Even the typically wild taxi services buzzed with boredom, and the street lights sent any bystanders into a mental slumber. With bland weather, came bland people, who had many things to accomplish while the rest of the city folk were caught in the whirlwind of disinterest. Genevíve Luther was one of those bland people, and she indeed had many things to accomplish that evening. Though, those many things were far from bland. Genevíve Luther was an actively old woman, with more pump to her step than your average elderly homemaker. Though her confidence was feigned, and quite obviously so (if you knew anything about her), she still maintained
There you are, you old goose! I thought you'd be waiting in the bar! To think of you down in these depths, it's unimaginable." Crooned a particularly tall and slender woman, with sharp features that Genevíve believed to suit her sharp tongue perfectly. Behind her stalked another woman, the meeker of the trio, who towered above the two of them like an telephone post to a mail box. "Samantha, must you yell? You'll attract attention!" She spit in a frantic voice, trying to catch up with Samantha's stride. "Jocelyn hush. Tonight is the only night I can scream and yell as much as I please. Lord knows how long it's been since I've done any of the sort in my own bed." Genevíve sighed in irritation, ignoring the chuckle-turned-cough that sounded from Nick, who tried his best to muffle his reaction into his shoulder before returning to attention. Samantha, selectively oblivious to her comrades' mortification simply marched past them, flashed her I.D. to Nick, and then tapped her toe impatiently as he swiftly peeled back the door for her. "Come along girls." She ordered with a sing-song tone, before walking into the pitch of the hall. Samantha stalked behind her, while Genevíve followed, but not before giving Nick a gentle pat on the shoulder and a little wave.
"Samantha, I love my husband. And I hate to lie to him like this. Before it was simply a little avoidance of the truth, now it's becoming a retched sin." "Josey, if you loved that man, you'd be with him and not here." "Oh, Samantha, don't say that." "Well is it not true? Gene, we both know that husband of your's is long past his mental prime. Just last week you were telling me of his little adventures, completely emptying your emergency account, trudging over to the nearest bar, asking for a milkshake! On cocktail night! The sheer embarrassment of it all!" "Hush Samantha. The server is back." Jocelyn muttered, turning to smile shyly at the young man as he strutted towards them with a tray in hand. "I've got here, one black velvet," he started, setting the first drink down in front of Samantha, who made a scene of accepting it straight from his hand and brushing her crypt-keeper fingers across his gingerly, "uh, a virgin bloody mary- and an orange juice. Are we all set for now?" "Virgin bloody mary-" Samantha started to criticize poor Jocelyn, before Genevíve hushed her. "Perfectly