The night was coming to an end. a layer of spilled booze coated the floors of the bar where numerous patrons were indulging themselves on greasy food, and slowly drifting away, drink after drink. here in this bar sat one patron who stayed though all his friends left, with the bartender who was to close this now quiet evening.
he too had been drinking this evening. he looked up from his empty plate and he caught sight of the clock behind the bartender, who was tediously cleaning the many glasses that piled behind him. a weak, red glow flickered from the digital clock 2:45.
tall, with unkempt and curled brown hair, the bartender relaxed and stole away from his work with a drink in hand, making his way over to his last patron. he seemed somewhat anxious and, as stated before, everyone went home but this last patron. rather high cheekbones and blue sunken eyes, clad in somewhat tattered clothing, he raised his glass to his face as he sat at the bar and lowered his head after his sip.
"Is there anything else I can help you with this evening sir? Do you maybe need a ride?" the bartender inquired of the man.
the man looked up from the porcelain and with a sullen edge, nodded his head, stating with this that he needed nothing of the bartender.
the ominous glow of the silent television set that was set to static, hummed. the bartender nodded in turn. the gentleman then said "i'll be going shortly, though i have no one to go to now. not even my own shadow follows my footsteps anymore."
the bartender leaned against the lacquered birch bar and questioned the man. "What do you mean your shadow doesn't follow you anymore?
"under the night lights and street lights, he walks along with better men than i. he is all the wiser. he became more of me, and where i used to leave him behind, here i am now; in his dust."
he rose to his feet and stood. his shoulders were broad and his patched canvas jacket looked quite warm.
"don't let what you love slip away from you."
he turned to the door, set it ajar, and slipped away into the cold winter night. he plucked a string in the bartender's heart, the start of a concerto of sorrow. he placed his drink and wept.
