This is the place

Let’s be spontaneous today. Let’s take a walk and see where we end up. It’s dark, we want a drink, so let’s waltz into a bar. We possess an energy that radiates from within and a desire to spread ourselves thin- to stretch and feel the world extend beneath us as we flit through possibilities of the night. We’re like chafed wires, charged, wound, and everything we touch will erupt. We’ll walk through smoky places and restaurants and crowded escalators until we find one best suited to our liking. There are too many middle-aged men in there, too many expensive bottles of Pinot and intimidating people with pink cheeks in groups, clutching beers in their hands. They won’t be moving any time soon so we’ll go elsewhere.

We’ll hear a sliver of reverberating music as the glass door swings open to our right and we’ll decide this is the place. Because why not. We’ll slide onto the stools and look through the menu; we’ll cripple ourselves with indecision. We’ll complain about how we don’t have enough room and roll our eyes at how nobody seems to have heard of personal space (we’ll secretly enjoy being annoyed). We’ll pretend we’re 19 and students from California with a preference for white wine and margaritas. The bartender will flirt with some English man and tell him she’s from London. We’ll giggle and watch her crush frozen juice cubes, make frothy bubbles and strain pink jelly bits. We’ll stir our straws and talk and talk and talk until it’s time for food. We’ll be young and silly, happy to add onto our string of adventures. Because we choose to make the most of this place, right here, right now.


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