Whiskey

You ring the bartender down, grabbing your small shot of whiskey. You wonder if they do it as well here in this small town as they did in the city but it's no matter. When the cold cup is in your grasp you don't waste any time before downing it completly. It goes down your throat differently that's for sure - but at least it doesn't taste too terrible.

"This is your life now David -" you say as you ask for another cup, the loud music of whatever punk metal band is playing doesn't even register in your mind - it just feels like background noise. "Drinking at midnight at a bar you don't know anyone at in a town where nobody knows you." but it's probably for the best. this is for the best.

Another sigh. The bartendder is barely even paying you any mind. To him you're a nobody. This almost feels depressing,

"I'm guessing with all that sighing that this seat isn't taken?" a voice behind you says tapping your shoulder.