Kyle sat and drank alone for the first time in nearly three months. He kept expecting the grey woman to tell him that time was up, and that he was required to vacate the premises. But this request never came and so Kyle, along with the other men and women in attendance, stayed in their seats sipping away.
And Kyle remained at the bar, reading through the graffiti that was scrawled along the counter. He saw cartoon characters, images of death and war and occasionally love.
And he stared at his phone. He scrolled through photographs of strangers who were once friends, falling down rabbit holes of his history.
But soon, he got bored or jealous or a mixture of the two, seeing the people whose lives he was no longer a part of experiencing everything that they had planned to experience. They
