A Guy

Evie

I walked into Nelle’s bar just after six with my laptop bag in one hand and my phone in the other. It had been a crazy day. The day was spilling into my evening, which it tended to do. Nelle’s bar was semi-busy with the after-work crowd sitting at tables and complaining about their shitty days. I was going to sit at the bar and complain about my day.

I sat on my usual stool at the very edge of the bar, farthest away from the action. It was where Nelle took a break when the action was slow. It was the best seat in the house as far as I was concerned. I could see everything and everyone, and yet, no one really paid much attention to the corner.

I ended my phone call to the flower shop that insisted they couldn’t get the tulips my client wanted. I very nicely told them to look harder. I flopped down on the stool, my laptop bag on the bar. I looked around and knew there was no way I was going to get any actual work done. I was fried and really uninterested in hashing out the details