62: Bar of Solace (drabble)
She sat awkwardly at the counter, nursing a semi-cold beer between her hands. The freezing burns that cut through her skin were nothing compared to whatever she was feeling inside.
She had only taken several small sips of her beer, and the liquid sloshed around in her mouth as she contemplated the last few days. Her zipper jacket was carelessly unzipped, the material so loose that one shoulder was bared. Her skinny jeans stuck to the skin of her legs and she could feel herself sweating uncomfortably in her shoes. Her hair fell limply just past her shoulders. One shake of her head and hair fell down onto the bare shoulder, offering her little warmth.
In the background, quiet bar music played. Normally they play live music on Friday nights.
I suppose whoever they hired couldn’t come today. Some people just can’t make time for the important things in their lives.
By these words her thoughts were redirected to him. Ah, the one who had broken her heart and “left her for dead”. She could see his eyes now, burning bright blue with anger, desire and hurt. They were so icy. The grey flecks were what had captured her heart though, dancing in an eternal circle around his pupils, as if proclaiming something. She had fallen in love with the eyes. It had always been the eyes, but never anything else.
I suppose I didn’t love you enough. I suppose you didn’t love me at all, however.
She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She was confused about her feelings, his feelings, their whole relationship. Why had things played out that they had? Sitting here, she felt as if she had been misled by her own heart throughout the duration of their relationship. She didn’t want to call it “love”, yet she did and look at what was happening now.
Briefly, she was aware of someone sliding into the stool next to her. She barely gave the person any thought before she went back to nursing her beer and finally, swallowing the liquid in her mouth. It tasted lukewarm and unfamiliar.
She was so confused. She could feel her heart disintegrating like glass, yet she remained calm about the whole affair.
Time to move on, I suppose. I can’t spare much thought for this.
P.S. Poorly written, poor taste, I will fix it later maybe~