Member-only story
Precarious
The ground too shakes
It is like discovering the ground too shakes. We cannot stand on water because the ripples unbalance us. The beer bottle may feel like a ship. But we cannot stand on liquor either.
The bar opens up. Like a lake in a desert. We’re all so very dry here.
The neon “OPEN” sign shades my face purple. I’m glad. I thought it was red. I clutch my fear close to me with my hands in my pocket. I’m certain the dull thud in my chest can be heard at the back. Beside thumping speakers.
A quick scan shows I know no one sitting down. Standing? Too vague to make out to be sure.
But I’ve been coming here forever…
And it’s been forever since my last beer. Well. Less than 24 hours I suppose. But time is meaningless. Don’t you know that already? In the hollow last hour of work, I envision the change that will come over me. Soon, soon, I’ll be on the tables. Soon I will be loose among the crowds with thin white cigarettes mashed between fingers; smoke like a veil for pain. Soon I’ll be lost in the meaningless dialogue. Soon connection will flow like alcohol.
Soon I won’t feel so devastated. I came here because I’d heard there was still an oasis in this city. I came to be stitched back together. I came because when the surgeon is invisible, you don’t worry…
