For this reason, two weeks later, on a Friday, September evening, I was sitting at the bar, slowly sipping a low-alcohol drink. Ever and again I glanced at Victor and watched him try to get the love of his life. This was his brilliant plan to go to the clubs and seek his happiness there. I did not want to accept it, but if he wanted to try it, I had to accompany him and hope that he would get bored of this method quickly. I just watched and made sure no one wanted to hurt him, and then, well, I walked him home because he overdid with alcohol.
A middle-aged man joined me, offering me a drink, I replied that I hadn't finished the last one yet, and looked up. I raised my eyebrows, surprised that his feelings were dominated by stress and guilt. He was thinking about someone important to him and about what he did a moment later, he came up to me.
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