Lazy blonde curls, she's drawing loops around a currency of time hunched over the bar. She's a bolt from the blue with a tiny tattoo I can't quite make out on her arm. The men brush past and she snickers at their jokes, but cringes when our elbows accidently touch.
Like I'm supposed to apologize.
She looks like a lesbian, but she's not. That's supposed to be a compliment, but I know she won't take it that way so I shut my mouth. She dresses like she doesn't care. Not it'd matter what I think. It never matters what I think.
She says she believes in love and I can't say that I believe in anything.
You ever believe in anything? Looking back, can you honestly recommend it?
There's a little laugh and I see someone's propped their baby up on the bar. They tickle and giggle with it in between sips. I can't fucking take it anymore. I have to get up and run out of there. I have to go anywhere else.
But then, I'm thirsty. There's no beer outside, or back at my apartment, but there's beer here. So I stay and drink. And I order another. And another.
I don't know if I have enough money to cover the tab. I'm hurting so much I can't count.
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