The Echos of longing

The bar

Her footsteps hesitant took her towards the lone corner of the street. There she looked at the bar. She looked at the big hoarding with wide eyes. Why? Because it was really just the Bar. The name of the bar was The Bar..

Bizzare..She thought. And walked in. There was no security or escort to take her inside. The place looked weirdly vacant. And it did not look like a bar at all. It looked like a two storeyed house remodeled into something like a bar. With a stair in the middle,going upward.

Her eyes looked at the bar counter. Barely a counter. Small. With very few glasses decorating it. And a wall filled with glass jars. No name on them. But the coconation looked tempting. The dim light cascading from the chandelier hung above the bar counter made it more enchanting as the prism effect of the jars made light colourful. It seemed it was a dance of colours. But the colours were actually still. It seemed everything was alive but still,silent.

She kept looking for someone. And she heard a footstep. And looked at the staircase. A man walked towards her. His footsteps were calm. As if he had not seen the beauty standing there, scantily clad,in her high heels,with lipsticks and perfume that permeated from her body and made the calm fragrance of the room feel tainted.

The man walked towards the bar counter,as he folded his black shirt,no,midnight blue shirt,with silver lining the collar lines. It looked casual. But it seemed everything was moving along. She looked at him. As he walked calmly towards the basin and washes his hands. And wiped them with the white towel. Neat freak..

He smiled a little as if he could hear her. Then walked towards the door,that kept the alcohol inside. The door slid open. And he pulled out a jar. Small.

With brown liquid dancing inside.

Pulling out a small glass from somewhere,he looked for something. And found it. He was looking for ice. Ice bowl to be perfect. He pulled it closer and put the glass,as big as his own finger inside. And waited for a moment.  Soon it was no more translucent.  It was grey. As grey as his eyes.

He picked up the glass. This time he was wearing a pair of gloves. And poured the liquid from the glass jar in it. Then pushed it towards her.

She looked at him once and she him,already picking up another towel and wiping up the glass jar. If she had looked closely she would have seen. The liquid,it's quantity had increased.

And she took it close to her nose. Cation. Great.

Then slowly she inhaled the fragrance of the alcohol. It had a strong fragrance of cinnamon.

And she slowly sipped it.

After a drink,she walked away,as casually as ever. Not asking for price. Not looking at the bartender,looking at the door that shut itself with melancholy. 

The bartender walked towards the wall. Picked up the glass jar,with liquid that kept swirling inside,even when kept still and chuckled a humour less chuckle. And poured himself one glass in a wine glass. The dark liquid twirled inside the tall,lean glass as if a dancer,dancing to it's own music. Not caring for the world..

He looked at the liquid and gulped it down. Not caring about any etiquette of drinking.

As the dark liquid passed through him,he felt sweat drops on his forehead. He could feel,the burn,as the wounds in his body reopened. His face was wet,as if he was sitting close to fire. The midnight blue shirt soon lie torn and he could not handle the feeling of being bound. The torn pieces looked dark,as dark as ink. Black. Soon they burned into flame.

He sat there. Eyes closed. No one was there. As the veins of his body was about to burst open..