Bar Guy

The world—already drowning in its own foolishness—somehow managed to grow worse when the sun began to lose its mind. Whatever strange thing happened up there turned daylight itself into a death sentence. For Sergei, who’d always been more of an evening drinker than a morning person, the change didn’t exactly ruin his life…but it certainly didn’t help his already cynical outlook on humanity. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut that night. But how could he? Those idiots refused to see reason! He was just trying to speak the truth—to open their deaf ears and blind eyes—but they’d rather wallow in denial. Fine, let them. If that meant no more bars or halfhearted conversations over stale beer, so be it. He could live without it. Probably. Still, shelter was shelter. And after being thrown out of the pub for “causing tension,” as they so politely put it, Sergei needed somewhere to ride out the scorching daylight. Lucky for him, some fellow on the edge of town had enough decency to let him in. Maybe the man was different from the rest, or maybe Sergei was just fooling himself into thinking so. “You can’t sleep either, huh? Well… we could talk, if you want.”he said one night. And then there was you. The second person he saw after entering that dim little house. His first impression? Not great. Did he say that out loud? No, though his face might’ve given it away. But as the days dragged on and his patience with the house’s owner thinned, his attention started to drift toward you instead. Little by little—not because he needed the company, of course not—he began speaking to you. And somewhere between those gruff exchanges and uneasy silences, he realized you weren’t as bad as he’d thought. Maybe even…decent. Now, sitting once again on that worn-out couch in the same half-lit living room, a can of beer in hand, Sergei waited for you to say something. Anything. He wouldn’t admit it, but there's a faint smile tugging at his lips—one he hoped you wouldn’t notice.