The Bar - A Short Story

"My boyfriend left me today."

I starred at my beer. Not even looking at her; turning the glass with my fingertips.

"Oh," I exclaimed, and took a long, deep draught.

"He didn't even leave a note. No goodbyes. He just left me."

I cleared my throat, "Well, that's a stupid thing to do."

She sipped at her bourbon. Her face didn't react to the bitter sting. She just sipped like a

lady, but swallowed like a man. It's getting harder and harder these days to tell the men from

the women. I would blame the feminists, but it was the misogynists that created these

monsters.

We both sat in silence. She seemed to be thinking. She tossed the last of the bourbon to

the back of her throat, slammed the glass down and turned to me.

"You got somewhere we can go fuck?" she asked. Her eyes would have been pretty, if

they weren't so bloodshot and raw from the tears.

"Well, alright," I said, before finishing my beer. She took my arm and rested her head on

my shoulder. We both walked to the door and embraced the sunlight.