Saturday Night at the Bar
I'm slouched with a whiskey waiting for C. The bartender is both imperious and slow-moving, terrible at his job. The same antsy fellow has been standing near me, trying to get his attention for five minutes or more. He mumbles something. "Sorry, what was that?" I ask.
"I've been here so long I feel like I should propose to you or something," he blurts.
I laugh and turn back to my whiskey. Another five minutes elapse. The guy catches my eye again. "Excuse me, I'm going to cry in the bathroom now." He scurries past me, defeated and without drink.
"I've been here so long I feel like I should propose to you or something," he blurts.
I laugh and turn back to my whiskey. Another five minutes elapse. The guy catches my eye again. "Excuse me, I'm going to cry in the bathroom now." He scurries past me, defeated and without drink.