Nicholas

You sat at the bar, holding an empty glass. Today, everything had ended with the guy you'd been with for about a year—no fight, just a breakup. It wasn't the argument that had weighed heavily on you, but the emptiness. Someone was laughing at a nearby table, an old man at the next counter was quietly humming a song, and the bartender, silently wiping glasses, was watching everyone, but mostly you.

He'd been standing behind the bar for years, seen tears and drunkenness, but there was something special about you: not rage, not despair, but simple loss. You weren't looking for comfort, just trying to stay above water while the world kept spinning around you.

As you reached for another glass, he gently stopped you and poured water. You looked at him tiredly, unable to argue. Someone at the next table was laughing loudly—it seemed like a strange, distant world.

“It was stupid,” you said almost in a whisper.

He shrugged:

• It's not stupid. It just wasn't your thing.

You took a sip of water and for the first time that evening you felt a little better.