09-26-2013, 09:36 AM
Jensen's elbows dug painfully into the bartop, but he remained slouched over the drink he had yet to sample. It was a squat, small glass filled with clear liquid that burnt his nostrils every time he drew close enough to actually take a drink. Finally, with a cringe, he brought himself to wet his lips and swallow what had to be liquid fire in a cup. If rain falls in hell, it falls cheap vodka.
He pushed the glass away and stretched out enough to pull an early model iScreen from his jeans' pocket. He fiddled with it on the bar for a while, but soon enough was slouched back to the former position, hovering over a glass that waited long minutes between his touch.
The current time and temperature faded to the DFW clog home-screen. It was just after dawn and cool enough outside to walk around comfortably in his t-shirt and short jacket. This morning's trip to the bar coincided with his journey home after working the overnight shift; but he'd thought about coming here ever since meeting John at MSU. Though he'd never finished a single drink he'd ordered, he'd been here before--this bar was a few stops from the shipping yard that employed his meager forklift skills: one of a couple blue-collar abilities he picked up in the last four years. His father would fall off the porch swing if he knew his son was driving a forklift. So due to the rearrangement of his night and days, the bar was a ghost town at this time of morning. Too late for the all-nighters but too early for the daily drunks too. Which left only Jensen and the bartender, who shot him disappointed glares for every few minutes Jensen didn't drink their firewater. No matter how badly he wanted to chug it all.
He pushed the glass away and stretched out enough to pull an early model iScreen from his jeans' pocket. He fiddled with it on the bar for a while, but soon enough was slouched back to the former position, hovering over a glass that waited long minutes between his touch.
The current time and temperature faded to the DFW clog home-screen. It was just after dawn and cool enough outside to walk around comfortably in his t-shirt and short jacket. This morning's trip to the bar coincided with his journey home after working the overnight shift; but he'd thought about coming here ever since meeting John at MSU. Though he'd never finished a single drink he'd ordered, he'd been here before--this bar was a few stops from the shipping yard that employed his meager forklift skills: one of a couple blue-collar abilities he picked up in the last four years. His father would fall off the porch swing if he knew his son was driving a forklift. So due to the rearrangement of his night and days, the bar was a ghost town at this time of morning. Too late for the all-nighters but too early for the daily drunks too. Which left only Jensen and the bartender, who shot him disappointed glares for every few minutes Jensen didn't drink their firewater. No matter how badly he wanted to chug it all.