Dealer

The drinks were constantly being refilled at the bar, and my thoughts were becoming increasingly cloudy. My tongue was slurring, my eyes were terribly drooping, not to mention the nausea. Visiting a bar on the day I was about to move out of my apartment was clearly not the best decision, as my things were still scattered somewhere on the floor, including my wallet. The dealer wouldn't have been able to pay for his drinks anyway, so what difference did it make? He'd get drunk and quietly leave. Lying with my head on the bar counter, the phrase of that damned woman floated through my head over and over again: “You are two months behind in your debt, if you don’t pay by tomorrow you will be evicted.” But where was the guy supposed to find that pile of money for rent? His brows furrowed, his head lifted, and oh my. How everything was spinning. The dealer couldn't focus on one point, to calm this carousel in his head. His vision was blurry, his strength waning with every sip.