Wednesday, July 5, 2017

7.

"You look too gloomy."

I reluctantly looked her way, and turned back to my drink, the solemn jazz and lonely atmosphere. 

"You need to stop coming here."

Again, I'm ignoring her. The same words, same kind of concerns doesn't reach me anymore. I've been here in the same old bar for almost a year now. Familiar faces around me holds me here. 

We share the same kind of tranquility. We sit here alone, indulging in our private peace. We sit here quietly. We don't start any useless conversation.

Just sit, stares into the dark space and shut up.

We want nothing. Not money. Not women.

Just some time alone.

This is what people like her doesn't seems to understand. They feel the urge to talk to us. To start a talk. Slowly trying to invade the little room we are in.

So I stood up, paid the bartender and left.

My solemn place is no more. The other familiar faces nodded me on the way out; without words they understood.


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