The beernuts were not to be trusted. Even after a wipedown, the bar table was still sticky. The floors could have done with a varnish a few years ago. It was a bit late for that now. The jukebox played the same tragic tracks out of a bygone era, the speakers providing a sort of background sound to drown out the silence.
A dive like this attracted a unique sort of clientele.
In some way or another, everyone within the bar was a broken human.
The military vest wearing fella beside the grimy window with the thousand yard stare...
The middle-aged lady loudly arguing with her ex down the phoneline...
Even the bartender looked like he knew the end of the shift was hardly a release...
Still, the beer was cheap, and Reef didn't really bother with the people. They just were there. Like him. So he sits, and he watches, and absorbs everything that goes on around him. And the beer jug's amber liquid slowly disappears as the hours go by.
Of all the things he'd forgotten, Reef remembered beer. He remembered the headaches, yes, but he remembered the laughter and the cheering and the feeling of comfort one got from being surrounded by friends. Tonight though, it was just the beer and him.