About Last Night

I slumped over the sticky bar, surrounded by too many empty shot glasses to count. How was I going to tell my wife that with the single stroke of a pen I had drained our bank accounts, emptying the savings it took us forty years to build in a whopping two minutes?

I watched through a foggy haze as blissfully unaware millennials partied around me. Witnessing their joy and happiness, along with the copious amounts of whiskey that was flooding my system, made me nauseous. I knew I couldn’t go home, but I had to get the hell out of here. Desperate to be anywhere else, I shot up, a little too quickly, and started to peel myself away from the bar when a glint of light caught my eye. I followed the shimmer to its source: a man in a dark suit, flaunting a Rolex, sitting alone at a dusty table. I watched as he flipped through a stack of bills, skipping over a handful of hundreds, before finally leaving a crumpled twenty under his empty glass.

I started towards him, a half-baked plan floating through my jumbled mind, with the intention of not leaving this bar empty handed.