Phrenology: E-Lunar (3) Route A (MANUSCRIPT)

Chapter 3: Turn 1 (Where Holy Words Were Muttered, Murder Reigned)

    "It's difficult being a bartender with a dark side." Fitz Coy smiled one evening as he washed dishes by hand from behind the counter of the Cafe Merlot.

    "What was that, Fitz?" Amontillado, the English teacher, sat close to a window which gave the view of Little Japan. 

    The city held lots of lights. It functioned as the yonic beast which held the bridges, people holding hands, and high-schoolers who went to private academies. It was the environment of dull peace yet at the same time a rising and bustling sense of prosperity. 

    "Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself again. I've been doing that a lot lately. Insistent self-talking, the professionals say. It's one of the many products of loneliness." 

    "Well, I guess you need to stop bein' so dang lonely then. We need to get you out there! Don't you do anything else besides run this bar?" 

    "I'd... like to say I do." 

    "Ha, come on! Seriously, Fitz. You know, after all this time of us bein' two grown men who've gotten to know each other, I still don't really know you all that well. We've been shootin' the breeze like a trigger happy napper, but yeah." 

    "Well, there's nothing much to me. I'm a simple and modest man." Fitz stroked his stubble, squinting his eyes onto the ceiling. 

    "Many men say that in their later years, only to come from incredible backgrounds." Amontillado gave Fitz Coy the stink-eye. 

    "Well then. I don't know what to tell you." 

    "You know what? You look familiar, actually. I think I've seen you around at more places than just this cafe." 

    "Really, now?" Fitz's mouth fell agape. 

    "Yeah! I think I've seen you before at that huge car manufacturing company. We were talking about this the other day even. About how the CEO of that company, Hinge Corporate, wrote a book of success talking about the same lover you were telling me about. You sure you ain't the same guy? I don't remember you using any cliches such as the 'twin excuse' either, or anything of the sort." 

    "I... don't know what you're talking about." The bartender bit his bottom lip at Amontillado. "Hey, actually, do you want to come down into the cellar-closet where I keep the 'special' wine? Free taste test for a reoccurring customer." The sides of Fitz's lips perked up. 

    "Hm. Okay. Sure!" The customer quickly stood up by the window. 

    "Good." Fitz's eyes went behind his head and rolled out again. His voice had suddenly fallen darker, though still kept the same register. His hair parted in the opposite direction from an automatic move of his arm. "Very good, Amontillado."

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