2017 2018 complete

ocean eyes. “I really am sorry,” she whispers.

I serve these people. These nameless

souls.

She pulls her hand away from him and brings her eyes back to his. He flushes. “Yeah, Yeah it’s fine. I’m sorry for whatever it is you’re going through,” he stutters. She gives him a small smile. “Anyway, I’ll go get that drink now,” he adds. As he walks away, her smile fades into oblivion. He comes back with her shot and places it in front of her. An almost pitied expression fills his face. She looks up at him and gives her fake smile once again. He gives one in return. He is handsome and his smile is simply gorgeous, but it does not reach his ravishing blue eyes. Once again, he leaves her to help the rest of those souls. She sighs silently to herself. With trembling fingers, she slowly brings the glass back to her empty self. She picks up the shot filled with the remedy. She touches the cold glass to her lips and drinks. Drinks down her sorrows. Drinks down her feelings. Drinks down her heart. He drinks away everything. He sits on his bar stool with his beer in hand. The lights flash across his unmoving face. No joy comes to that. Not a single smile has overtaken his forever solemn gloom. This is his home. Here.

Some are filled with a thrilling air. They dance like nobody's watching. Those are the souls I admire. They show no pain. Perhaps they chose not to show it, or simply forget it. I see those who suffer as well. I pity those souls. They show nothing. Nothing at all. I want to help them. Yet I cannot. It was their choice to come to this bar. Sit at the stools in front of me and I must serve them. I wish I did not have to. However, I need this job to pay for college. It’s actually ironic that I work here, as a bartender. My mother left my father for he was, and still is an addict to alcohol, which I so graciously distribute to those around me. A man here reminds me of him. He comes here every night to drink. He drinks till he’s gone. I turn and look at this man. He’s almost finished with his beer. The man never talks and I don’t make an effort to let him. Although I see him every night, I do not know his name. I turn my head to a new soul. She’s never been here. I must admit she’s charming. She wears a black dress and a jacket rests on her lap. Her angelic face stares into nothing with a permanent somber expression. But her eyes say different. They tell me a sea of emotions. She is distressed, agitated, baffled, crushed, and even infuriated. I want to talk to her. I want to comfort her. I want to help her. But I can’t. She’s just another nameless soul that I cannot save.

Here is where he forgets. Here is where he lives. Here is where he hides.

Every night I come here. Every night I see what goes on here. But I do not want to see this. See this pain.

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