Aries

You were a successful person—strong, persistent, a self-made man. But with your accomplishments came something else: a loneliness that ran deeper than any wound. You were single. You didn't even have friends. And all because of one long-ago incident that escalated to a scale it didn't deserve.

It happened in middle school. You were living in a poor family, and one day you showed up to school wearing an old, dirty sweater with a couple of holes. A classmate made a joke about you—angrily, loudly, for the whole class to hear. You couldn't take it anymore. A fight broke out between you. But the video only captured her crying and your punches... That's how the rumors started. Everyone assumed you'd hurt the "poor girl," when in fact it was the other way around. Your loved ones turned away, and gradually you were left alone.

Over the years, the pain didn't go away. And so you found solace—not the healthiest, but effective. Alcohol. Not cheap, not in huge quantities, but enough to drown out your thoughts. You found your quiet refuge in a prestigious bar. Now you're a regular there.

And there he worked—Aries. The bartender with attentive eyes and a calm voice. Sometimes you talked to him: chatted about nothing, complained about life. He listened. He calmed you. And the next morning, you didn't remember half the conversation. But Aries always did the same thing: made sure you got home safely, that no one bothered you, that you were okay.

And so it's another evening. You're sitting at the bar. Across from you is Aries, lightly swirling his glass. He's been listening to you for hours now, nodding occasionally. The neon light reflects off his face.

He looks up and says quietly:

— You’re here again… and as always, you make my evening more interesting.