A gentleman spoke to a lovely lady in front of him. They stood under the light post near the street junction. It was cold that night, with a breeze blowing by. The woman nodded to him, a subtle smile at the corner of her mouth. They hugged each other, then she crossed the road to her car, which was parked on the opposite side, and drove away. The man stood still and watched her drive off in the distance. His chest pounded, and his hand trembled slightly. He walked along the street, under the fluorescent light. He reached a small bar at the junction and went in there for a short cover from this chilling wind. A rather old bartender with a white beard greeted him as he sat at the bar.
“Evening, man, what would you like today?”
“Can you give me one of the draft beers, please?”
“Sure, you want a tab now or later?”
“Later, please”
The bartender walks away to serve another customer. The man sat still and watched the environment around him. People in the bar seemed to be enjoying themselves. Some were chatting with their colleagues, some were celebrating their birthday, and some were on their fifth date. He felt empty somehow as he watched them being happy in the moment. His face shifted as he looked over each group. The bartender walked over and handed him a glass full of rich, foamy draft beer with a subtle smell of cinnamon.
“How you’re doing, mate?”
“Oh, I’m good, man. A lot of people are here today.”
“Yeah, it’s Friday, man; people hang out after a long week. What are you doing all alone tonight?”
“Nothing in particular. Trying to avoid the silence in my home, I guess?”
“I do hope you feel better, mate. Let me know if you need more.”
“Thanks, man”
The bartender moved by, leaving the man sitting alone at the bar. He sat quietly, recalling the words he had said earlier. He had been coping with the unstable emotion for a long time. He never really worried about it that much until it affected how he behaved around people, including the girl he had just lost. He seemed to forget the importance of having someone who cares about who he is, and he let them go in the most painful way imaginable. He still catches up with friends from time to time, yet a distance grows in his heart between them, as does everyone else. A glimpse of reminiscence seems to pull him apart from the fabric of reality, with the present moment being ignored entirely. He stares blankly into the pile of alcohol on display behind the counter. A colorful light reflects off each bottle and scatters all over the background. He gets lost in those lights; flashes of memories replay over and over inside his head. A sharp sound of a cash register pinches him out of that reality. A bartender knocks the register to force the drawer open.
“Sorry mate, this box of metal seems broken again.”
“No worries”
“Actually, we are going to close in 30 minutes now, so that's kind of my way of waking people up.”
The man seems confused by the bartender's decision, as he just realized he is the only one left in the bar. It has been 2 hours since he came in.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be here this long.”
“Don’t be apologetic; I've seen a lot of young lads drop by and get lost in their own wonderful, delusive minds after a dreadful day.”
The man didn’t see that coming from an old bartender with a grumpy look.
“You guys are lost in your head over and over, in memories from the past, then lash out whenever it becomes too painful to tolerate. I have to clean up after them every bloody time.”
“So you think I will lash out?”
“Nah, you seem more intact than those I met before. You just suppress it inside too much, and I don’t want that kind of explosive emotion today.”
The old bartender laughs out loud, walks over to a man with a bill, then takes his glass away to clean it.
“Let me give you a piece of advice: you can stay with it as long as you want, but you will never go anywhere if you don’t leave it. It will always be there; you already learned about it, so just close this tab and move on”
A sarcastic voice from the bartender sent a shockwave down the man’s spine as he pulled out cash and got up from the chair.
“I’m sorry, man. Thank you”
The man pushed through a glass door and walked out to an empty road, a traffic light hanging over a thin wire. Something in the bartender's words struck him, like the most brutal wake-up call he ever got. He looked back at the bar with the neon light slightly dim. Relief washed over him, and a teardrop slid down his cheek. The man walked home after that, knowing the little bar had reminded him of something valuable tonight.
