[accidental visual | location: shelley bar] here comes a regular
The bar's called the Sunbeam and the first impression is one of light: lacquered blond wood paneling the wide arc of the counter, spokes of it slanting radiantly across the ceiling. The floor, tiled in pastel red to match the cushions atop the stools, is clean though not shining. There are no dark corners here.
When the tablet-scattered on the counter like a handful of loose change-flickers to life, it catches a swath of the ceiling, part of a man's face as he leans forward to collect a newly refilled glass. Stubble darkens Don's cheeks; his hair has struck out on its own, threatens to droop over his forehead. He wears a tie striped in grays, sits hunched as if bearing some heavy weight.
“How'd you get here?” he asks, conversational but with a needling edge.
“I apologize, sir, I don't understand your question. Can I get you anything else?”
“No.” A hand, cigarette caught in its fingers, sweeps over the tablet. “Just an answer.”
“If you're hungry we have m-”
“Many specials, yeah. You mentioned that.” There's a pause, then a scraping noise, a dull thud, and the image shifts-goes cockeyed. An arm snaps out over the screen. “Tell me this, tell me this one thing-when's your shift end? There's not a bartender on the pl...”
Silence for half a minute, maybe more. The arm drops. The stool lets out a wheeze as he sits back down.
When the tablet-scattered on the counter like a handful of loose change-flickers to life, it catches a swath of the ceiling, part of a man's face as he leans forward to collect a newly refilled glass. Stubble darkens Don's cheeks; his hair has struck out on its own, threatens to droop over his forehead. He wears a tie striped in grays, sits hunched as if bearing some heavy weight.
“How'd you get here?” he asks, conversational but with a needling edge.
“I apologize, sir, I don't understand your question. Can I get you anything else?”
“No.” A hand, cigarette caught in its fingers, sweeps over the tablet. “Just an answer.”
“If you're hungry we have m-”
“Many specials, yeah. You mentioned that.” There's a pause, then a scraping noise, a dull thud, and the image shifts-goes cockeyed. An arm snaps out over the screen. “Tell me this, tell me this one thing-when's your shift end? There's not a bartender on the pl...”
Silence for half a minute, maybe more. The arm drops. The stool lets out a wheeze as he sits back down.