Something To Do With Sitting at the Bar

pink_drink

Sitting at the bar is no different from sitting at home. Sitting at the bar is no different from sitting at home, but drunk. Sitting at the bar is no different than sitting at home, but with people. Sitting at the bar is no different than sitting at home.

There is another person sitting at home, at the bar, on the end, she is crying. I watch her, curious. She is crying into something pink. She doesn’t look like the type to drink something pink; doesn’t look like the type to cry.

She turns.

She dries.

She walks towards me. I look ahead.

“Do you want to fuck me?” she asks, close enough for me to hear.

She left her drink where it was.

I look at her then down at her hands. Her nail polish is white–chipped.

“No, I tell her chipped nail polish.

“Then what are you looking at?” she accuses me.

I shrug. “You were crying,” I say. I wait, she doesn’t respond. “I felt bad,” I add.

I don’t know what her face looks like in the moment, I don’t check. I just hear her say, “that’s worse.”

“That’s worse,” she says, again.

Then, she leaves. I look over at her pink left drink. I don’t know if she paid or not. I don’t know where the bartender is. I walk over and drink it in one. No one else in the bar seems to care. I shuffle back to my seat, the bartender still hasn’t come out.

I finish my own drink and go home.

 

 

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14 replies to “Something To Do With Sitting at the Bar”

  1. a hard story, where you have to breathe first!

    Basically it is about thoughts why you sit in bars?
    In your story, it is a frustrated, sad woman … typical behavior howl and drink and a defiant reaction alla “now I do not care”, or “now I hurt you also”?
    Then the great question why the narrator did check-in. He consider himself too good for something like this or/and finds the action wrong. But he drinks her drink, so he is in the same fairway …. at least with the alcohol.
    Again to the title: If you are alone, I find it quite pleasant to go to a bar to be among people. I do not have to drink alcohol, which I can have at home aswell.
    Easy thinking from my side, Flash. I know your thoughts are going in several directions …. “the person is at home, at the bar” …. the bar is like at home, because the person spend more time there? Some twistmoments are hidden, I’m sure. The title could also have been “That’s worse” .. double, for her and for him, and trible: That´s worst behaviour for the world, and nobody pays! Grandios Flash!

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    1. haha thank you. This one is a bit more dark and somber than others I write. I actually wrote it completely wasted which I don’t usually do, then edited it in the morning. I think drunk me has a different tone of voice.

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  3. Dowdy, and realistic. Is this story about the steps towards alcoholism, how the narrator wants to care, but caring is slipping after from them, as it has slipped away from the girl? Whatever your purpose it was an enjoyably empty read. Uplifting in its deflatedness.

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    1. This story actually came from a line in my notes somewhere that just had a snippet of the conversation and I was looking through my notes–while drinking a bit, and just started writing. In my mind there are two ways I see it; the reality, or the idea that he is actually at home and that is his wife. And his life and marriage has fallen apart. And he is seeing it this way. I am not sure. it is a bit of a hazy image in my mind and I can’t decide.

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