Monday at the Bar (Part 6)

"Hey."
The light is dim in here.
It almost always is, even in daylight.
You can see but the shadows seem to fall on every corner in this place and that feels a little disconcerting.
Sitting at a booth because the bar stools feel a little too familiar and uncomfortable at the same time.
It takes a few minutes longer than you would wait anywhere else to get service but you do it because it would be awkward to leave at this point. The regulars give you a glance as you pour that glistening bottle into a glass you're pretty sure hasn't seen the inside of dishwasher
No one recognizes you. The people you used to drink with here every night have moved on or died and that takes a little bit of you away with it. The bartender looks like she wasn't even born when you started drinking here and you close your eyes to try and remember what was...
The stale smell of a thousand cigarettes and $5 mini pitchers of beer fill your head as that old song plays over the speakers. You open your eyes and see that she's here, a little late and looking at you like you never left. She's the only reason you came back here and it's time
She walks with the confidence of a woman who doesn't take anyone's shit and that was something you always loved about her. Pausing to grab a whisky at the bar, she slides in across from you and for a brief moment, the clock stops and everything goes silent and still...
Do you talk first? Apologize? Does she? Shared silence as you try to find a way to say hello means a few seconds of the look that you both know too well and she smiles as you fumble with your words. She's truly still beautiful and you are glad you came home, even for one day...