Money and chips were already waiting for me on the table where I was sitting that night, and I decided not to ask why he placed them there. However, liquor from the last night and a weird experience seeing him being friendly lowered my guard against talking.
“Who was that girl yesterday?” I asked while I was putting money into my pocket.
“A musician.”
“I know, I mean... she was good.”
The bartender sat down at the bar, without saying anything, and took the newspaper like that conversation never happened. He left the kegs right next to the bar stool on which he was sitting and acted like I was the one who wanted to fetch them. I knew it was time to leave.
I went towards the door as slow as I could in order not to look like that I tried to run away. I didn’t want more talking by giving
