miss-fit

Gotham City Stranger

The house number was 2957.

The driver drove a few houses down that read 2951, 2953, and 2955 before my eyes finally set on a gorgeous two-story house that was so perfect, it looked like a painting.

The basic pastel pink-color of the house with white details contrasted against the emerald green of the fresh-cut and watered grass. There was even a bird bath and a fountain of a girl statue pouring water into the fountain bowl she was sitting on, all surrounded by a white picket fence and bushes that matches the grass. It was picturesque.

"Sir," I said to the driver, "you can just drop me here. Thank you."

Handing him fifteen-dollars, I began to get out of the car, with my hand on the handle, when I heard a door slam that sounded like it was nearby.

Of course, my instinct was to look for the culprit. It was a man with dark brown hair with matching eyes and golden-brown skin. From the pictures I've seen, that was definitely my father.

Some sort of nervous wave came over me when I saw him and I took my hand from the cab door handle.

My father was headed towards his Bentley when I asked the cab driver to follow him. Although the chubby-faced man thought I was crazy, he did it anyways.

We drove for about thirty minutes to what looked like a small bar in the center of Gotham City. Really? All this way just for a bar? Well, then, it must be pretty dang good.

About three minutes after my father went inside, I decided that I was my turn. It was time to tell him who I was, to confront him.

Finally paying the cab driver, I skulked into the dingy looking building. This place was definitely made in the 1940s or something.

The smell was horrid and I was a tad shocked when nobody noticed me walk in because you'd think the giant bell on the door would've at least caught one eye, but... nothing.

Almost immediately, I saw my father sitting in the corner of the bar in a booth. He looked like he was waiting for someone... casually, though. Who would he be waiting for?

Before I could stop myself, it was almost and instinct to hide, so I speed-walked to the bar and plopped myself down on a stool.

"Pick your poison," a deep, raspy voice said. Looking up, I saw this guy in a black t-shirt, wiping a glass.

"Oh, uh, see I don't drink. I'm only sixteen, so-," I said nervously before he interrupted me.

"So, just water then?," he asked like he didn't even care that I wasn't twenty-one-years old yet.

My eyes widened, I thought he was going to kick me out. "Oh! Yes, please." I smiled kindly before he began to fulfill my order.

Didn't take him long to pour a glass of water and put it in front of me.

"Thanks," I nodded. He smiled.

After taking a sip, I looked around to see what the atmosphere of the room was. Dreary... and quite sad.

That was until a man came out from behind a curtain and walked onto a small platform with a microphone stand, so I assumed it was supposed to be a small stage or something.

He didn't say what his name was or anything like that, just that he was "here to liven up the bar!"

That caused a smile to tug at my lips. He was trying to make us smile and I guess that worked for me.