Writer gone Rogue

1.Drunk man's tales

-Eveline if you walk trough that door, you might as well never come back.

         But i want to do it so bad.I always find myself ready to leave but always stop.Why would i be so afraid? There is no consequence of me leaving besides my own and true happiness.Am i afraid of being happy? No that's not the answer. I guess i'm afraid of being alone.It's like a void full of unexpected in which you are  slowly being dragged into and your heartbeat is going wild,your adrenaline is gushing and as much as you are frightened you are excited.

       Looking into his eyes i can see he has really got hope.I can feel the certitude in his glaze thinking i could not possibly leave.It's warm outside,kind of windy.It's a wonderfull August day Leaves rustling as i step closer to him. One single move and i'll be able to feel his breath. I can only hear it now. He smiles.He's so goddamn sure.

         I take his hand.Caress his cheek.As we're staring at each other smiling,i lean in for a kiss.

      -Damn straight i wont come back.
    And that's the first time ever he sighted for me.
        I grab my keys and get into the car.My car was the color of the sea on a cold rainy day,my jacket's leather was as black as the night sky and the amount of fucks i refuse to give start to materialize as i can see them while looking into my eyes' reflection in the rear mirror.That's what feeling bold is.Not giving a crap and feeling great for not giving a crap it's not an empty cold sensation,acctually it's really calm and soothing.
      I hear footsteps approaching."Gotta go fast" i tell myself,realizing afterwards that i got no place to be,so i might as well take my time.
     -Eveline...says a man's murmur.
     -Eveline my ass.
   So just like that. I left.I left a broken man with a broken heart.But i left happy.
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         I've been driving in a circle for about an hour and a half trying to put myself at peace with everything.
      Like my old man said: "Hide your feelings in your liver and drink 'till you drown 'em" and frankly at the moment thats the best i could do.
     I drive around the town a little bit and find a decent looking bar that i choose to get in.
     I go to the counter and a 30-something- year old lady asks me what will i have to drink.
      -Well,what do you sugget i should ruin my liver today with?
     Behind me,i heard a man's laugh. Unfamiliar. Naturally,being a curious person i turn around to observe. Old man.Around sixty.I'm wondering if he is just a someone passing by or a bar regular.
      -The young lady will have a martini.
   Certainly the town's drunk.
  The barista started to laugh sarcasticaly.
       -Hello,Bart.She calmly responded.
  Called by his surname,certainly a regular.
     But also,I am here to drink.And im so not ready to puke my emotional crisis drowned into some sweet ass martini.No. I came here to drink.
      -The lady,i continue,will have a wiskey and a tequila shot.
      -Tough day? He asks me.You have no ideea.
   I don't reply,though.I'm not into the friendly-conversational mood.I left home.I got no place to stay and soon i'll be too bashed  to drive myself to a motel.So i'll just keep on drinking and sleep on the counter.
      The old man,Bart,takes a sit near me,glancing from time to time into my direction.
    -Listen.You seem old.I don't really wanna talk about how your children left you all alone or whatever.Also,i don't think that inflicting a discussion with someone full of booze and rage is a wise decision either.I may seem pretty harmless but i have several restraining orders and a barfight wont really look good on a resumé.So goodnight,sir.
     After speaking my heart out i felt like that was kind of blunt,even for me.I beggin to apologize for my rudeness but the man doesn't seem bothered at all. Even more,he started genuinely laughing.
    -Listen,he started moking me,i came here for the same reason as you.To drink.And as i can say for both of us,we're lonely people.Does it hurt to have a little conversation once in a while?
      The women from the bar pours my drink.
   -It does. I said while lifting my glass.
   -It's not the girls' fault she doesn't want to listen to your old damn stories Bart.
   -Stories?
The lady sighted.He seemed happy as much as he seemd intrigued.Bart was wearing a shirt with some old jeans and a pair of shoes. His smell wasn't incredible but i could deal with it for a story.For one good story,to help me get started.
     -Are you a reporter? He curiously asked.Reporters never belive me. Bart continued.
     -Than why should i?
     -Are you a reporter?
     -Acctually no ,I am a writter.
     -In this case,you don't have to.
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    Hours were passing by and the bar was getting emptier and emptier.I couldn't stop myself from listening to this old man's stories.The way he told them.Just like he was there the whole time.Just like he lived them.
         -She was a bliss.Could blind you in a second.
-Wait...she was your uh...wife?
-Very much so,yes.
I smile.He was talking about her for over an hour with so much love and appreciation. I guess that's one of the side effects of alcohol.Ripping your day-to-day mask.Unrevealing your real emotions.Proving that we are more than some walking meatsuits.
-But when she was angry...Son,you wouldn't have the balls to say a word back.
I close my eyes for a second.The sun was slowly rising and i was more and more aware that my little escapade was over and i still had no place to go.
-You're still looking for her,aren't you?
He puts on a frown.Shakes his head as he tightly holds onto the wiskey glass.
He sights and tears start to form into his eyes.I can feel the tension in his gut.
-I'll never stop. He says as a single tear starts rolling down on his cheek.
I finally open my phone again,tons of missed calls and messages,my voice mail was obviously full.I slide my finger on the call button,ready to break down and give everything that i stand for up...just to feel safe again.I could burst a cheap "i'm sorry" and get back to my day to day life.To my shitty job and failed relationship.Ah yes,the american dream.
I drink my last wiskey sip.I take my purse while thanking the man for his exciting stories on my way out.
-Where to now kiddo? He cheerfully asks.
-Wherever the wind takes me.I answer.
-The wind won't take you very far without gas money.
-I'll manage.
-I know.
-Will you?
He looks sad.In this whole night,not once he looked this upset.Even when he told me about his wife,his kids or even the damn car his dad gave him when he was sixteen and dumb enough to loose it in a bid,not once he looked sad.Just nostalgic.Nostalgic but quite optimistic.
I step closer as he whispers a half-mouthed yes. I can't leave him broken.I know how demanding answers you can't have feels like.Loosing someone and loosing  yourself.
-Come on.
His face lightens like he knew what i was going to say.
-We got to find your wife.
After i throw my phone on the ground i step on it in order to be sure it's broken in pieces.
That's it.My new path.
New phone,who's this?