A man walks into a bar, and sits on a stool. Before he orders his usual drink, he turns toward the rest of the establishment and looks at what kind of people are in his company for the evening. Some, he feels, look like decent people. The others are scum. People he would never associate himself with. Women not worth his attention, and men not worth his conversation. He then turns to face the barkeep and simply nods. He’s been there before. They know what he likes. After a few moments, he begins to drown his sorrows in brown liquor, and then white. Drink after drink, he absorbs the effect in hopes that he will be able to forget her. Forget her face, forget her taste, forget the way she calls his name. He says he will leave her after each enchanting encounter, but he the courage to do so evades him at every twist and turn. He would miss the smell of her hair, her crooked smile, the way her nose crinkles when she laughs. Most of all, he would miss her warmth. He would miss how her legs seem to push him deeper into her each time they make love. He’s obsessed with the way she needs him. The way she makes him feel like she needs him. Yet, at the end of each evening, he watches the curve of her back get further and further away from his as the door closes behind it swiftly. He watches her go into the arms of another man through hotel curtained windows. She isn’t his. She never was. But she keeps him on his toes, she keeps his mind in motion..his body rolling around in mixed emotions. So he drinks. Every time she leaves him, he drinks. He sits at that same stool, looks around for people who might be more interesting than she is, and when he doesn’t find anyone, he drinks. As she slides into the arms of a man who could never possess the amount of love he aimlessly carries for her, his calloused hands wrap around a smooth glass that could never betray him. Once that glass is in his hand, it isn’t going anywhere. He refills the glass with adoration whenever he wishes to, and the glass allows him to take it in each and every time. Unlike her. Unlike everything she’s given him. She’d just take it back. Dangle it in front of his face, watch his eyes dance in the moonlight of false hope, and once his heart allowed him to get comfortable in her embrace, she took it away. So he drinks. And he will continue drinking until someone more interesting than she could ever dream to be walks through that bar. But until then, he drinks.


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