Most Things



Most things will never happen; this one will. There’s a bar across the street from where I live. The Cat’s Pajamas is the name. It’ll take me precisely six minutes to walk there. I’ve timed it. I’ve walked there twice a day for the past week; six minutes is the time it takes. I’m sure of that. It’s midnight right now. The place closes at two o’clock. I can make it there before 12:30. There’s a bartender there that will not be at work tomorrow. This I know.
The lights are off in my apartment right now. The only light around is the light on my face from this screen. The other lights are off. I’m drunk and tired, but I can make it there before 12:30. I know this. There’s an empty bottle somewhere in this room and a knife somewhere else. I can find it. I can find them both. It won’t take long. The bartender is where she should be right now – behind the bar. She’s filling someone’s drink right now, smiling, laughing and earning her green. She’s wearing a short skirt, a clean white shirt with a big logo on the side, over the left breast. Her shirt is white like her smile when she pours for her customers. She’s been there since sometime this afternoon. Today’s her Friday. She hasn’t eaten in a while; she likes to wait. She likes to feel like she earned it. So do I. I’ve earned this. I didn’t deserve it; but I earned it. When I leave (I’ll be leaving soon), I’ll take the knife with me.
I haven’t slept. I don’t remember, really, if I have. Have I slept recently? I don’t remember. She’s walking away from the bar now. She takes breaks. She’ll be back and she’ll be wearing the same thing. Most things will never happen; this one will. She’s back. She’s the only one behind the bar. There are others around, but she’s the only bartender. It’s a quarter past midnight and she’ll be done at two o’clock. She told me we were done. She didn’t get to know me. She didn’t want to know me. She can’t see this light from my screen. She’s smiling. Maybe she’s smiling because she finished it with me. Where’s my bottle? I have more. Even if the bottle’s empty, I have more. I haven’t slept in a while. Have I already said that? Where is she; there she is. Where’s my knife? I want to feel what she’s going to feel.
I have my knife. God, I’m drunk. What was I doing? I can make it there by 12:30. Wait…yeah, 12:30. I can still make it. There are pills next to my computer. There are some on the keyboard. I don’t know whose they are. Where are they coming from? Where’s the bar – The Cat’s Pajamas? There it is. She’s right where she should be. Where’s my knife. I’m leaving. I’ll make it there by 12:30.

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