The neon sign above Miller’s Liquor Emporium buzzed with a low, rhythmic hum that matched the nervous tapping of Julian’s fingers on the steering wheel. It was 11:45 PM on a Tuesday, and he was on a desperate, late-night quest for a ghost. Specifically, a liquid ghost. Bacardi Torched Cherry Rum.
The clerk shrugged. "Retail price. I don't believe in gouging people for nostalgia." where to buy bacardi torched cherry rum
The man stopped reading. He looked over the top of his glasses at Julian, assessing him. Slowly, he closed his book and stood up, his knees popping audibly. The neon sign above Miller’s Liquor Emporium buzzed
The old man turned and walked toward the back of the store, disappearing into a maze of towering shelves. Julian waited, listening to the muffled sounds of bottles being shifted. Minutes ticked by. Julian was about to give up and leave when the man reappeared, carrying a bottle coated in a thin layer of dust. Bacardi Torched Cherry Rum