Scott Waleman’s elbow slid off the bar for a fourth time, nearly spilling his current drink in the hastened drunken recovery he rested it back on the wise old wood.
“I think you should head home…” the lonely bartender at ‘Swanky’s’ exlaimed for what seemed like the 12th time.
“One more…” the drunken business man of some kind exclaimed.
“You’ve had about 21 one more’s already”
“I jus los my job…give me a break buddy and take the cash”
“Man, look around.” he gestured for the suit to lift his face from the nearly finished house scotch infront of him. “We’re closed.”
“Fffuck…” Scott muttered, finishing off the rest of the scotch and sliding off the stool to his barely functioning feet. “This place is a shithole!” he screamed before pushing the doors open to face the rain falling outside.
The bartended shook his head with a grin as he poured himself a drink.
It felt right that Scott should simply walk around in the rain aimlessly, shouting into the sprinkling skies his anger at the corporate world. Occasionally a car would roll past the ridiculous scene but none stopped.
Then another figure came into Scott’s eyesight. It was odd, the figure seemed to be walking almost as Scott was but the failed business man knew he had not been drinking. His stumble was more one of shock - it’s gravity eminated and pulled Scott Thaleman into his world. “Are…you ok?” he asked when the figure came into earshot.
What Scott could now tell was a teenaged boy did not answer his question. he was also now close enough to see the blood which stained the front of his clothing. The only communication received was through that of his eyes; the story they told was coming across loud and clear.
Scott now felt significantly more sober and he placed himself right infront of him to try again. “Hey…”
The boy’s glance finally snapped into place as he regarded Waleman. His eyes were close to tears but he seemed to confused to cross over. “They…he’s dead. He… we were just standing there…”
“Who?”
“They… just shot him. I don’t even… .we were just standing there. I…” the boy was once again no longer talking to Scott, he stared through him, gesturing at some unknown receiver as his face twisted through images of horror and sadness.
“Come here…” Waleman said softly, attempting to bring the boy in for the type of hug he always saw on TV between two strangers.
The boy resisted for a second as he struggled to realize Waleman’s presence once again. Finally he fell into the soaking wet arms of the suit. “I want to leave…please take me out of here!” he started sobbing at considerale volume. “We were just… please… I want to leave!!” he sobbed, harder and harder.
The rain continued to crash down, the cars continued to roll by.