In the corner of listening and glass there lays a small bar called The Listener’s Glass. There are only two employees who work there. I run the bar and a part-time student who works so that he can pay for his college. Most of the time I’m in the bar all alone, and a lot of really sketchy people like to walk into the bar. Although they make for the best stories.

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A tall strange man walked into the bar, and the blood on his face showed that he had just been in a fight, and the look he showed on his face told me that he had a rough day. The stranger proceeded to sit down and order a drink, which I kindly poured for him.

“Tough day?” I asked.

The stranger simply shook his head to this and downed his drink. He set the glass back on the counter, and I poured more liquid into it.

The stranger looked up at me. His expression was somber, but his eyes were hard. “I can’t even begin to describe what happened.” The stranger took a gulp of his drink and looked away. His eyes remembering the sights they had seen. His face became somber, and his eyes were cold. “Today,” he started with a sad tone. “I killed a man.”

I looked at the man and leaned in a little closer. The bar wasn’t crowded, but I’m sure the man wouldn’t want the few people in there to hear his confessions. “How’d that happen?” I replied to the stranger, and he looked at me in shock. He questioned why I did not shake, or fear him; how instead of flinching or calling the authorities, I just asked him a question.

The stranger seemed to chuckle at my reaction before simply saying, “It’s a long story.” The stranger went back to his glass and he finished the content that currently resided inside of it, and I began to once more fill the glass. “But I guess it wouldn’t do any harm to tell you.” The man looked me straight in the eye, and I stared back at him, curious about what he was going to say.

“It all started when my father’s business started going bankrupt. One of his trusted employees and a good friend of mine had been embezzling funds. Our company went to ruins quickly, and my friend got away with all of the money. I guess that my dad and I had put too much trust in him, and in return, he stole everything we owned.” The man stopped to stare at his drink. “He left with the money, and I thought that I would never see him again. But tonight I saw him, and something came over me, and I just killed him. It was like another person just took control of my body. With every swing I took, I seemed to lose more and more control of my own actions.” The stranger raised his shaking hands, and now I could see that his knuckles were torn up, and bloodied.

I looked back at the stranger’s face. Then I looked towards his drink. His glass was still full. Most people are through with at least four glasses at this point “My father died last year.” The man said shocking me. “He died of a disease that could have easily been cured with the right kind of care, but because we no longer had any money he died.” The stranger finished off his third drink, but this time he stopped me when I went to refill it. “He died bitter, and even though I was with him it wasn’t enough. All he ever cared about was his money.” The stranger paused, and he looked up at me. “When I killed my friend today, all I could think about was bashing my father’s face into the sidewalk. At some point, I stopped thinking of the man I murdered as my friend, and I started to see my father. So in a way, tonight I killed my father.”

Red and Blue lights flashed through the nearby window, and the man looked towards it. “Well, that’s my ride. Thank you for listening to me.” The stranger pulled some crumpled bills out of his pocket and placed them on the counter. The bills had blood stains on them, and they were torn. The stranger then began to walk away from me. His shoulders low and his back slouched. Then he turned around and smiled saying, “You know. You are a very good listener.”