Ash

The bar had strange hours; it closed at 10 pm most days, but it didn’t close until midnight from Thursday to Sunday. The Tipping Point also didn’t have lunch hours.

No one at the bar had to open for lunch, work through two shifts, then close after dinner on the same day. Ash was jealous; he was tired of clopening four days a week.

When Ash arrived, he ran to the nearest lamp post with his heart pumping. The place was buzzing with guests, like hungry bees in a hive.

Men and women of all sizes and ages occupied the bar seats. All of the regular tables were occupied as well.

Ash stood still and watched the bar counter from behind a lamp post. AJ shook a silver tumbler and flipped it in the air before pouring a drink for an attractive blonde. The woman casually stroked AJ’s hand as he slid the cocktail to her. He flashed her a beautiful smile and said something that Ash couldn’t make out. They both laughed, and he moved on to the next customer—another attractive woman. 

Mesmerized by AJ's charismatic performance, Ash forgot why he was there. But watching AJ greet every customer with a flirty smile made his insides twist in a way that he had never felt before. A knot in his abdomen grew with every smile and touch.

I wish that I could be like him.

The air was charged with a stirring unrest as if he was alone in the middle of a silent crowd. He clutched AJ’s shirt to his chest to comfort himself.

Then he remembered that he was here to return a shirt.

The glass window framed animated reminders of his cowardice. AJ made it look so easy; it was as if he’d known all of those people his whole life. Rather than subject himself to more envious thoughts, Ash ran around to the back of the building to wait for closing time.

He slumped against the brick wall next to the dark green dumpster and closed his eyes. The smell didn’t bother him; he was used to the stench of rotting food.

About half an hour later, the dwindling chatter that waned with every passing minute meant that it was closing time. Ash held out the white shirt and inspected it again; it was all wrinkly from him holding it so close for so long. 

Well, it was already wrinkled because he hand-washed it. He wondered if the shirt was even clean. He brought it up to his face and wrinkled his nose. It smelled like a dumpster. 

He pressed his face into the shirt to take a deeper breath. 

“THERE’S THE PERVERT!” Screeched a woman, causing him to jump. 

“AAAAH!” Ash yelled before freezing in place.

The last thing that he needed was a criminal record. 

Finally, he started to run but collided with someone. 

The stranger fell backward, and he tripped on their leg and followed suit. His head slammed down on the man’s head, knocking himself out in the process.