The Leavers

1 (2)

8:00pm

"I fucking left. He wasn't worth my time!"
"And this was all in the same day??" Jimmy bewilderedly asks.
"Yeah, then you approached me an hour or so later, questioning me in the bar when I was off my fucking head!"
Jon and Jimmy find themselves on either sides of the couch, beer in hand with a few empty bottles littered on the coffee table. It's dark out now, apart from a murky blue gradient in the sky. The apartment is lit with a lazy warm glow from the 2 working lamps.

"I couldn't even tell you were high with laced shit. Honest to God I took you for a trustworthy chap."
"Sounds a bit to me you were off your head too." Jon laughs before finishing his beer.

"I'm thinking about heading out now, don't know the ins and outs of this place so it's gonna take a hot minute to find Peter." Jimmy adds as he stands up slowly from the couch, stretching with beer still in hand.
"You want the rest of this? This American shit isn't what it makes itself out to be."
"Yeah, alright." Jon responds as he takes the half-empty beer from Jimmy, finishing it.

"You coming with?" Jimmy asks, walking over to the door to grab his leather jacket laced with burns and stains.
"Yeah, yeah. You seen my jacket?"
"It's probably in your suitcase. You haven't been wearing it all day." Jimmy responds.

Tipsy, Jon finds his way down the hall to his bedroom. The suitcase lay open on the bed , his brown denim jacket thrown lazily on top. He checks the pockets after putting it on, cigarettes, lighter, loose cash and wallet.

The apartment is left in a mess. Lamps still on, cigarette butts dumped in the ashtray and bottles littered on the table and floor. Important Jimmy and Jon sentiment, Fun first, work second.
They emerge outside, a soft, cool breeze running its hands through their hair as they join the statistic of NYC's nightlife.

As they make their way down the sidewalk, Jimmy lights a cigarette, it leaving a musty cloud of smoke behind them as they walk.
The lights are fluorescent and everywhere; each store sign and each nightclub and bar, illuminating the streets with a drunken glow. Homeless people find homage on the edge of the sidewalks, businessmen turning a blind eye every time they cross paths. The nightlife is bittersweet. You either find yourself in the momentarily euphoric, or permanently miserable. Jon and Jimmy felt they stuck out like a sore thumb as British outsiders. It's 1967. It's your independence that makes you fit in.