by John Khuc
Sitting at the bar stool, I looked around. The thick fog of cigars and cigarettes cut by only the low dimly lights behind the bar. Looked down into my amber drink and letting the days twisted and turned drown away when I noticed the blurry street lights as the door opened afar. Standing with the light to her back, she stands in the door way and looks around, took no interest I go back to my drink as every other eye watched her approach the bar. She walked over making her way through the fog, and I could sense her eyes somewhat staring over.
The background jazz music keep playing like angel drops. I’ve been here for 3 hours, drinking and meditating. But maybe, maybe I should not be here, really, I’ve never believed it, I always took work like an easy task, but, now, it seems like it’s an endless thing, or maybe, maybe I’m troubled because of that haunted murder case on Rosevelt Street. But also, a fragile silhouette of feminist figure linger on my mind, in my dream and bugger my imagination as long as I can remember and feel.
The pumping sound of clogs started to clinging louder to my ears. That was some woman, she walked up next to me at the bar, she was wearing a red dress, tight sexy back with a tobacco of the finest brand between her lips and asked the counter for a drink. The place was somewhat luxurious combine with a relaxing vibe amid the dimly lights, and cigarette smoke hovering around the room. Then, suddenly, through the dense of the atmosphere, she reach out and whisper: “Why are you drinking so much, lad ?”
Her face came to clear, dashingly beautiful she was. She inhaled on her cigarette and expressed a cluster of smile.
People has asked me why I drink so much. I just tell ’em why not? A little whiskey never hurt a man, wouldn’t it !?. What I never say is that a lot will drown a man, and I needed a lot. Truth is, the booze makes the confusion stop, makes the bad thoughts go away, and sometimes even pains if only for a little while. The booze soothes a broken heart and eases an aching head. Makes you stop thinking about that dame that went behind your back with your friends, your trusted brothers and why you put a bullet through ’em both.