The bartender’s walk home after a shift.


Working late night, you see the morning in a way that most people don’t. Early morning when the sun is almost up but not quite there. The early birds start chirping, like a laugh track, chiming in at the wrong time.

You don’t want the sounds of morning, but morning is what it is.

The birds mock you with a late night alarm clock that reminds you of your maladjusted life. You walk pass early bird joggers, being healthy and collected listening to news channels through headphones and living lives that seem to be so much better than yours.

Day walkers on the street nod to you and smile as if you’re one of them. They’re jamming on the buzz of a morning cup of caffeine while you’re in this strange and awful anti-climatic party mode. Late night bar music still pounding in your head. Repeating lyric after lyric of songs that you hate that latch to your brain like a cancer. The music that makes woman dance and wallets open.

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