https://penastory.com/2016/07/05/the-bar-elias-saheed/

Came steadily and readily for the night, had been waiting forever for it; the day hasn’t been favorable least I could do to myself was a shot. Ambled into a bar, oozing and dishing out things I assumed not describable. Walled myself into a comfort zone, letting go off shots. Countless heads strolling in and out. The music was so calm but I’ve got my troubles within. I couldn’t restrict the sight of girls wrapped up in sinful clothes, still can’t unfold my cause who am I to blame.

The gist gets going like I wasn’t present. The lilt of her hair bought me back to life. Almost choking on my own drink, she looks joyful but the way she gulps her shots was of depression. Hello, a presumed way of me getting attentions. She looks away, I guess that wasn’t enough. I had to touch her dress with my lustful compliment you look gorgeous, a resounding smile that wasn’t of pleasure but acknowledgement

Drafting my plot into her, I offered her a table least I could think off. She was full of worries and laughter, I tried getting solace in her but peace within is more necessary, Her lamentation wasn’t bizarre perhaps conflicting; a dazzling fashion designer before things went wrong her dress says otherwise. Such is life, the responds that triggers her own question

I went on dabbling and dodging my woes. I’ve got my downs but watching her lustfully radicalized my thoughts, hoping not to grow old into the nights. I’ll rather get laid in the bar than getting layoff at work. I hear myself fading away far from the music; she still gobbles her drink, filled with smiles. It wasn’t chemistry flowing just two drunkards caught up in a mess. I felt out of the blues, I haven’t been much of talker or a drinker but tonight I got myself deemed my walk home was all about redeeming my life.

PS: Committing ourselves perhaps can make us find answers to tales that was never asked.

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