v12-final1

46
I didn’t hear him come in. I don’t even really know where he came
from. I remember feeling a cool breeze, almost a gust move behind me.
The door must have opened. I looked over my left shoulder to see who
had walked in, but saw no one there. Bringing my head back forward,
I was startled when a man appeared on my right, dressed in a dark over
coat placed a black fedora on the bar.
“Mind if I join you?” The man said in a cold and hollow voice of
a smoker. He looked to be in his latter thirties, but his eyes looked much
older. His skin was pale. His hair was a wiry mess of grey, white, and
occasional black. The man turned his head, his eyes drew upon me.
Initially mumbling, I responded “No, I don’t see why not.”
“What are you drinking? It looks like the right kind of pill.” He
said with a little more roughness than I thought he had in him as he
settled into his seat.
I responded in a memorized statement; you’re not an alcoholic
if you know your drinks “Bunnahabhain, 12 year. It’s smoky and peaty.
Not many enjoy it, but Sunday’s is the only bar serves it around here.”
The bar tender, having renewed interest in his patronage, moved down
towards us. “What will it be?”
“Same as him. Bunnahabhain please. Keep it neat, and poor
another for my friend here who recommended it.” The man replied with
a confidence that made him appear comfortable in this surrounding.
Still, his voice seemed vaguely familiar.
We sat in silence as the bar tender poured two glasses. I kicked
back the remainder of my original glass with a hard swallow that watered
my eyes and burned my chest. Though this was to be my third, my head
remained clear. The third drink would do the trick.
Our liquid vices placed before us, the bar tender went back to his
corner. Though I always considered him a horrible bar tender, I guess he
knew what his patrons wanted—solitude.
I picked up my glass. It was a taller pour than the previous two. It