on the edge of town

GAME OVER

PORTLAND, OR
OCTOBER, 1975.

She spotted him from across the bar and noticed immediately that his hands were tattooed, in big black letters the words, GAME on one set of knuckles and OVER on the other. This unique statement scrolled across his hands made her wonder what that was supposed to mean. Was he an angry person who used those knuckles to cause harm to others? Or was it a statement about his lot in life and how he felt about his own reality?

She took the rest of him in and noticed his thick head of dark black hair, pushed back to show the contemplative look upon his chiseled face. His thick eyebrows furrowed, looking down at the glass of booze in front of him. He seemed completely lost in thought unaware of the other patrons in the bar sitting beside him. She wondered what he was thinking about? A recent breakup? A lost job? Or was he simply daydreaming, like she found herself doing so often in her day to day life? The only way she would find anything out about this mystery guy was to actually get up the nerve to approach him, but how? She didn't want to seem pathetic or like a desperate woman on the hunt for a date, even though that was the case. This guy was just so magnetic in every way, she had to say something or get his attention in some way.

She took another sip of her beer before pushing herself off the barstool and forcing herself to walk in his direction across the room. As she walked past the other customers and the smoke clouds that engulfed her face, she just about reached him when she suddenly spotted a lanky woman sidle up beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Damn, she was so sure he was all alone and now she looked like an idiot for trying to make her big move. The woman was a blonde with wavy thick hair pulled up into a loose bun. Her midriff was exposed and her flared jeans were extremely tight. Quite the intimidating figure for someone with no game and zero sex appeal. Oh well, she tried and that's all she could really do.
As she walked towards the exit in defeat she took one last glance at the back of her dream guy and noticed he had a pack of cigarettes sticking out of his jacket pocket, not one of her favorite habits that people possessed. This discovery made her feel a bit better about losing out to that other woman now. She could have him and his ashtray tasting breath, she thought and let the door shut behind her. Closing the door to the possibility of finding out his story and another night of loneliness for her.