Airport

[Oceana Setaysha]

“One more,” says the shadowed man, and he downs his drink like a lightning bolt to the brain, slams the glass on the bar and stares. The barman doesn’t say a word, because he knows the look and knows the white knuckled grip lost men have around bar glasses like lifesavers in stormy seas. “One more,” the shadowed man repeats, and repeats again, and still the barman says nothing but holds the bottle out of reach and watches the man watching him. There’s a cyclone in his eye and that white knuckled grip squeezes all the hope from life and the shadowed man takes another, and yet another then stops. The airport moves around him and he touches his shadowed hands in shakes to greying hair and a black suit and tie, wipes a tear from his eye.
“She was young,” says the shadowed man, and the barman pours another, because he knows a shadow’s pain.

[Angela]

Fine finish, Oceana. This was a viewable six - by that I mean I felt like I was watching a short film.

[Oceana Setaysha]

Thanks for the comments guys! :D

[Teresa]

This moved along swiftly and lands softly in compassion. Well done.

[Bill Floyd]

Another good one. I spent some time in the airport this past week and you'll see one of these every now and then. I admire the way you got into the heads of both the bartender and the drunk while keeping the details external. Advanced style, well delivered.

[Gita]

Gorgeous writing. You put me right there on the barstool next to him.

[Stephen Torelli]

The soothing barman. Excellent write!

[michael r. oconnor]

This can be perceived in a couple of different ways, leaves you wondering, I like that. Good job.

[Aradhana Choudhuri]

Beautiful imagery...perhaps shorter sentences?