CLOVE

thirty-nine

⨯ brennan ⨯

I realized that I didn't want to stay at the fancy nightclub. I wanted to be somewhere dark and anonymous, where I could drink in peace without having to put on a show for the crowd.

I caught a taxi and directed the driver to take me to a small, dingy bar on the outskirts of town. It was the type of place where the lights were dim and the patrons kept to themselves.

The bartender gave me a nod as I sat down on a stool in the corner of the room. He didn't ask my name or make small talk, which was exactly what I wanted. I ordered another drink, settling back to nurse my sorrows.

The place was mostly empty, save for a few older regulars slumped over the bar. No one seemed to take notice of me, which was fine by me. I didn't want anyone's sympathies or advice, I just wanted to lose myself in the alcohol and forget about my problems.

I ordered another drink, feeling the alcohol slowly dulling my thoughts and muffling my emotions. I knew that drinking myself into oblivion wasn't going to solve anything, but it was the only thing that made the pain and loneliness bearable.

As the night wore on, I gradually became more and more drunk. My thoughts were muddled and my movements slowed. I lost track of time, just slumped on my barstool and staring into my empty glass, feeling like I was drowning in my own sorrows.

The alcohol only worsened my loneliness, making me feel even more isolated and helpless. I thought about Clover, imagining her at home or out with her friends, happy and carefree without me. The thought made my chest ache with longing and bitterness.

I was just about to take another sip of my whiskey when all of a sudden, someone bumped into me from behind. The force of the impact caused me to spill some of the drink on my suit, staining the fabric.

I gritted my teeth in irritation, turning to see who had bumped into me.

It was a young man, probably in his early twenties. He looked tipsy, his movements uncoordinated and his eyes slightly glazed over.

"Sorry, man," he said, his voice slurring slightly. "Didn't see you there."

I scowled, feeling my irritation growing. "You're damn right you didn't see me. Watch where you're going next time."

He held up his hands in a placating gesture, a sheepish expression on his face. "Whoa, take it easy, man. I said I was sorry."

I rolled my eyes, feeling my irritation turn into anger. "Your sorry doesn't dry my suit, idiot."

He chuckled, clearly not taking my anger seriously. "Relax, man. It's just a little bit of whiskey. I'll buy you another drink if it bothers you that much."

I clenched my fists, feeling my frustration and anger building up inside me. "It's not just about the whiskey, moron. It's about basic manners and respect. You should watch where you're going instead of stumbling around like a drunken fool."

He snickered, clearly amused by my reaction. "Come on, lighten up. It was just a accident. No need to get your panties in a twist."

I felt a bolt of anger shoot through me. I couldn't stand people who acted like everything was a joke, especially when they caused inconvenience to others."Watch your mouth," I snapped, my tone cold and menacing. "You have no idea who you're talking to."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression growing more amused. "Oh yeah? Who are you then, tough guy?"

I stood up, turning to face him and completely towering over his 5'9 frame. "I'm the guy who owns that nightclub that you just left."