It smelled like dirt in here.
A cigarette lolled between his teeth, ash dropping lazily onto the counter. He flicked at it with clicking fingers, earning a look from the bartender that made Felix’s shoulders roll back into a languid shrug. She sighed, breath covered with frustration, then took a cloth to dab at the flecks of grey in front of him. He noticed a blue vein pulsing in her temple. It was his third day here at this nook and he could tell she was tiring of him quickly. It might have made him feel a pang of guilt, but he reasoned that she was the one who chose to work here. Whose fault was it that her shifts were at the same time every day? He hadn’t written her schedule. Felix pulled the cigarette from his mouth and blew out a wisp of smoke.
“I want a beer, Millie,” he requested dryly. Her ochre gaze floated to his face, flooding with disapproval and lit with a tinge of defiance. After ruffling in his pockets, he placed some money on the counter, as if daring her to deny him. She crossed her arms. He challenged her with hooked eyebrows, knowing her defeat was imminent. She looked at him, then the money. A glass mug with amber liquid that frothed at the lip materialised in front of him. “Good girl.” Felix’s fingers curled around the handle. She responded with a disgusted scoff and he simpered into his drink.
.
Evening came and he was irreverently drunk. It started with a beer and ended with shots, shared between him and the after-work crew whose first mission was always to escape into a bottle of liquid freedom after knocking off. Raucous laughter permeated the dirty, shifty pub. Despite its modest (decrepid) appearance, this bar was the nicest one he’d visited since his return - the most welcoming. Suddenly, he felt shitty for treating the bartender the way he did. Fingers scraped through already-wild hair as he willed the thought away.
Now he stood outside by a lamppost, the angles of his face illuminated by the harsh light. He was an amalgamation of awkward features brought together and highlighted by cutting cheekbones. Felix lit another cigarette and took a long drag. Smoke twisted into the air. Behind him, he heard the creak of an opening door succeeded by the light clacking of shoes against the pavement. The noise ceased quickly and he allowed his eyes to follow where it had come from. A few feet away stood a female, makeup smudged and eyes pooling with tears.
Ignore her, he thought. Yet, wordlessly, he held out a cigarette.
