A man walks into a bar.
Well worn floorboards groan as he makes his way across the floor.
He sits in his favourite chair, creaking a little after 10 years of the habit. He nods at Jerry the barman, who pulls a pint almost on reflex. Jerry's a good lad, always happy to keep a lock in going for a celebration, a funeral, all those big moments spent there when closing time doesn't quite get the job done. The man rests his head in hands for a moment, breathing out the stress of a long day. He catches his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, and it's never very kind. The clock ticks loudly in the corner as it strikes twenty past seven. His best friend Brian always rolls in around eightish, the rest in dribs and drabs as the evening wears on.
Not yet, though. It's his first time here. He takes a sip of his beer. 'Damn that's a good pint', he thinks. 'I should come here more often.'
He sits in his favourite chair, creaking a little after 10 years of the habit. He nods at Jerry the barman, who pulls a pint almost on reflex. Jerry's a good lad, always happy to keep a lock in going for a celebration, a funeral, all those big moments spent there when closing time doesn't quite get the job done. The man rests his head in hands for a moment, breathing out the stress of a long day. He catches his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, and it's never very kind. The clock ticks loudly in the corner as it strikes twenty past seven. His best friend Brian always rolls in around eightish, the rest in dribs and drabs as the evening wears on.
Not yet, though. It's his first time here. He takes a sip of his beer. 'Damn that's a good pint', he thinks. 'I should come here more often.'
