Oh Beautiful Stranger, please, let us meet again.

Just another cold night, alone. My brother - the best friend a man could hope for - was going to a show with his lady. They were a fine couple, both of them too childish and in love for their own good. I had only myself, my thoughts, and my bleak future.
I was overcome with a craving for something hard, refreshing, to help keep my mind from wandering into those looming shadows that haunt us all. I crossed the street from my humble home, through the merciless snowy dark, to the warmly lit pub. I entered with a harsh gust of frozen air at my back, hoping to find my quiet escape empty as always.
My hopes went unanswered. Two young women, roughly my own age, sat at the bar. One of them, a larger, thickset lady of strong features turned to look my way. Nosy? Curious? Desperate? I wasn't interested. I took my usual seat, and without so much as a whisper, the tender served me my usual. I sipped it in silence, grateful the strangers down the bar were content not to start up any sort of conversation.
Hours passed, dragging on like the centuries, in peaceful muteness. Slowly, my potion took it's effect, guiding my thoughts from their inevitable demise and simply letting them relax into a blur of wasted memory.
Later that night, the larger woman approached me. I looked her over. She asked me the time. I checked my pocket watch and, to my surprise, it was long past midnight. When I looked up again, I did not meet those dark, brown, dull eyes. Instead, I was met with eyes of a deep, sapphire blue. They were large, piercing, unrealistically beautiful. In that moment, the blur of my thoughts became a diamond-edged blade. In a flash, I remembered who I was and why I sought the comfort of the bottle I still held: I was a soldier, a murderer by career, a man doomed to a short-lived fate. And I was alone in that end.
Somehow, the large woman managed to strike up conversation, and she sat to my one side, her blue-eyed companion to my other. I could never recall what we chatted about, for I was still long lost in those crystal-blue oceans. Oceans half-hidden by brown bangs that had sneaked astray from her simple style that hung short, just below the back of her neck. I was captivated, prey cemented to the spot by the gaze of an unstoppable predator.
And a predator she was. Elegant, graceful, silent in her movements, hardly disturbing even the dust in the air with a brush of her hair. Her shoulders, sloping gently, showed an inner strength that her outer beauty belied. She never spoke, though I would have willingly paid any impossible price to hear her voice. Her eyes did all the talking, their depths bespeaking a millenia of wisdom.
To my displeasure, the larger woman brought the conversation to an end, albeit some time later. She left, her friend following without question. I watched them leave, and my breath was caught, for the blue-eyed beauty was marked. A long, pale scar ran down her back, trailing along her spine, revealed to me by her back-less top. It was not an ugly mark, however. On the contrary, it only emphasized the elegant curve of her physique. It left me with an immense curiosity, my now re-cluttering mind reeling with wonder.
She blessed me with one final glance over her shoulder as she donned her large fur coat, instilling me with a feeling of a temporary goodbye. At that moment, I knew we would meet again, and my depression eased. The door closed silently behind them, and once more, I was alone.
Just myself, my thoughts, and my hopeful future. Oh Beautiful Stranger, please, let us meet again.