I am taking in a Bourbon with a splash of coke from a can. The short straw is 4.45 inches long(industry standard). It has desires to be a sip stirrer but unlike men with a girth obsession it covets the idea that slimmer and leaner enhances the drinking experience. A woman(they used to be girls) slides down her chair, her conical breasts breaking away from her body, looking towards me. I want to sleep. But see some redemption in her veiny road mapped milky bosoms. Her boyfriend casts me a glance — not intimidating but carrying an impact. I look away and surveill my surroundings. I want to clamp my incisors on his nose. Enamel on bone. He attempts to peacock puff out his chest but only succeeds in revealing his dadbod. He is dead to me but Im acutely aware that I am very alive to him.