The Bar Keeper's Promise

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It had been like any other day as with the night. I would dreadfully awaken from my slumber and while still half asleep find myself getting ready for the day. Eat some food, hydrate my body, kill part of it with a cigarette, then brush my teeth after having my second cup of coffee. By now it was a routine, none that I ever cared for. As the day would go on I'd find myself staring outside the window of my office on the fifth story of our twelve-story building. As with any poor bastard that hated his life; I was in the marketing department of some building with a CEO that had a net worth of 20 some average American life times. Sure, the money was good, and sure the women who saw me in a suite with the money where hot. But there was no reasoning and there was no purpose. I was in a purely existential crisis. Or, to be far less dramatic, I was a younger man going through an old man's midlife crisis.

I had the $90,000 car with the roaring V8 that when revved people would rubber neck and think I'm over compensating for the fact that I, like many others, have an average sized woody woodpecker in my pants. When I concluded that none of this mattered, that no matter how much I wanted to be seen or unseen. Whether it be because of good looks, charm, or money. All I knew is that in the end. When I die if I didn't change my life I was going to be like every other average American dream living fuck. Full of depression, substance abuse, and burnt out lungs starving for clean oxygen with no trace of tar.

At about half past twelve I had just finished my assignment for this week's contract. Me and my coworker, Jeremiah, had been working on it for the past 18 hours. We eventually got all the details in order and would be ready to present everything to the board within a few days. "Well, that's enough of that from me. I'd invite you out for a bite to eat but I don't think either one of us could stand another moment together." Jeremiah said jokingly as he closed his laptop and began cleaning our desk area. "Maybe tomorrow, my treat. Thanks for the help man." I said with a shit eating grin and a singular laugh. Jeremiah wished me well as he was off on his way.

He was good to me. We came to the firm at around the same time. We had bounded over our love of football and baseball, then food and oddly enough a mutual disregard for typical social know how. Even though I was always pessimistic he remained willing and capable of making an average work day not so miserable. Maybe it was the ease of working with him, or the fact he knew the only humor I liked was the kind that made one question one's self morals and humanity.

I looked out the view from my office and seemingly just stared. For what seemed like hours was meer minutes. But I always found myself here, just thinking. Glaring out and wondering what life could be all about. What it has in store for those lovers across the street from me in the park as they walked under the lights hand in hand. Or the homeless woman leaning against a building adjacent from ours. Trying to scavenge food but after feeling hopeless and failing only by her own kindness. Giving what little she had to her canine companion.

One view gave me a perspective, perhaps a dose, into optimism. The other, merely making me frustrated yet heartbroken. Not by the women and her dog, but by the sheer fact the women and the dog have been thrown into such a situation. The only hope I had for them, was the only hope they shared. Which was that of having each other. The hope that when they pass, they pass together. That if they don't make it through the year, the winter. They hold each other tight unlike life that gave up on them. As much as I hated life, was so negative. I still held on hope for situations like this. Because I wanted them to receive peace, happiness. Sure, I could go down there and throw them a few bucks. Sure, that would help them for a briefs moment. Yet that would nowhere nearly help them fully. Yet, if only someone or something could, just maybe, do something to give them the chance they needed. Though, it was more likely I would see them being carried away after they had died and laid motionless. Being found after someone screamed at the fear of a dead body, and the whimper of a broken-hearted dog later passing. Even if all I wanted to do was focus on the couple, happy and young. The truth was, we all end the same. Some just at different times in different ways. Always heartbroken and basked in tragedy.