My ‘weekends’ are usually on Thursdays.
I stepped into the bar – unusually quiet – late in the evening.
It might sound a bit cliche as I tell the bartender that I ‘drink to forget’. Sometime it’s stress, most of the time it’s more of a tongue-in-cheek thing.
Halfway through the night, the entrance creaked open. It was exceptionally loud and clear as there were only six of us in such a small space. We all turned and stared as the door swung open. As if it wasn’t dramatic enough, the music stopped playing in my ears and I waited in anticipation.
A middle-aged lady with short bob and glasses peeked in. She squealed, froze and ran back out.
By the time the bartender ran to the door, she was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe she was surprised to find a room full of liquor, dimly lit behind an unassuming door.
And it is here, when I need a break from the chaos, bright lights in this city, that I can forget.