As Sam got close to Haze they started walking slowly and peering into the glass storefronts. Their reflection showed that nothing drastic had happened to their appearance since leaving their apartment five blocks ago. Phew.

Their dark green sweater was still sitting on top of a white button up, and their pants that were not-quite-jeans and not-quite-slacks still looked fine. They were pants that Sam loved for the kind of occassion when they were simultaneously afraid of being overdressed and underdressed. They really didn't know which it was going to be tonight. As they peered into their reflection in the storefronts, seemingly windowshopping, they wondered if they looked queer enough.

This neighborhood was mostly full of small shops with apartments converted into offices and studios above them. Haze was one of the couple night venues peppered throughout it. As Sam approached the entrance they saw two people smoking outside. Since pacing outside the door waiting for the confidence to enter no longer felt like an option, Sam considered walking right past the door. Instead, they reminded themself of the blanket of gray newspapers on their desk and reached for the cold metal bar on the door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.

Even though it was close to the apartment Sam had lived in for years, they’d only been to Haze once. Shortly after realizing they were nonbinary they went to try to make some queer friends. Maria had known she was queer since high school, but she'd convinced Sam that they needed to find queer community around where they actually lived. Excited by the prospect of belonging, Sam braved their social anxiety and went to Haze on a Friday night. They walked into a haze of very cool looking queers who were decked out and grouped up. When Sam realized that the people there weren’t just going to talk to everyone who walked in the door, they worked themself up to compliment someone's shiny pronoun pins. When that person said 'thanks' and turned away without a second thought, Sam wandered around a bit more, eventually leaving and never going back. 

Walking in the door again made them anxious, but it was a Wednesday and there were only a handful of people there. The dark blue walls seemed a little brighter today, maybe because the lights were a steady white instead of cycling through various color combinations like last time.

The dark wooden bar sat to the right of the room while there was standing room to the left of it, and to the left of that, an opening into another room. Everyone who was there tonight was sitting at the bar, in clusters of couples and triads sitting about a seat apart from each other. Sam walked all the way to the end of the bar where there were two open seats. Awkwardly squeezing themself between the two stools they waited for the bartender, trying to breathe out for at least two counts per breath.

The wall behind the bar was covered in mirrors, somewhat obscured by layers of bottles, though not enough to protect Sam’s eyes from the reflection of the lights. They were trying to figure out if the people who work here get used to the glaring lights when the bartender walked up to them. “What can I get you?” He loomed over them, the jewelry under his lower lip glistening. Sam forgot the script they'd planned on.

“Actually uh…nothing, I mean… if that’s ok, nothing, I just wanted to give you my resume in case you’re hiring..”

They opened the folder with their resume and tried to hand it to the bartender, who didn't take it. He flatly said “let me get the owner” and walked away.