“I get a bad rep”
The soulful-eyed man was sat hunched over his drink. He wasn’t getting more than the odd “uh-huh” from the barman but, to be honest, he didn’t really expect anything more in a dive like this. He was casually dressed like most of the bar’s clientele. Despite it being cold out, he always avoided wearing a hoodie, just sticking with a coat and scarf; he had the feeling he wouldn’t enjoy the experience of being recognised when he wasn’t actually working. Something about being on-the-job meant you didn’t get any grief. Sure, some of his clients weren’t too happy to see him, but what were they gonna do about it eh?
Still, it was a lonely old existence. You didn’t get many romantic partners who stuck around once they found out. He’d tried making things up, but recently he’d started just alluding to the fact that it was uber-confidential. The last one had decided he was some sort of spy, and things had been quite exciting for a while as she liked the idea of a spy for a boyfriend. Then she came across his working clothes … and it all changed.
Like I say, it’s a lonely old existince, so tying one on and muttering about how unfair life is to a barman who paid no attention was pretty much the only available outlet.
“Gimme another one would’ya Sam?”
© Debra Carey, 2018