chaosorc

He parked his rusty truck at the bar and was surprised it was open, only two other cars in the lot. He pushed the visor up so he could scan the other side of the river, shielding his eyes with his hand. He raked his fingers through his facial hair and pulled it away from his mouth, licking his lips and looking at the front door.

He pushed open the creaking door to his truck and climbed out, stretching his legs one at a time as he placed his booted feet on the dusty asphalt.

Michael and Jessica were at the bar, she was the bartender and he the regular patron. They didn't even glance his way when he entered. He scanned the bar and there was no one else in there. Red bench seats, complicated looking collages made of torn newspaper sealed beneath glass tabletops, red and gold lamps dangling above each one. Pool tables in the corner by the jukebox that wasn't plugged in yet. A bluetooth speaker behind the bar played music from her cellular phone.

He approached the bar and she eventually glanced over, what'll it be?

The music wasn't loud enough to prevent them from speaking five or six feet away.

Pee bee arr.

She went to the refrigerator at the side and produced the bottle, she retrieved the bottle opener and popped the top off in front of him, it landed on the bar and she put a hand on it.

Start a tab?

Just the one

He slid his credit card over and she rang it up.

He tipped his beer and then looked at Michael who nodded in his yellow cap.

Want me to plug it in

He shook his head and tipped the bottle again, can't stay long

Got it

She went back to talking to Michael, the two close together, voices low.

He looked at himself in the mirror across the bar, it had gold glitter painted in, framing the name of a brand of beer. He stared into his own eyes and ran his hands through his facial hair again.

He stepped outside and let the door close behind him and watched the traffic disappear, then quickly turned the corner and went straight back from the bar and into the high blue-leaf grass. He found the chain at the edge of the river and pulled it and eventually a backpack appeared and a black and green pair of galoshes. He untied and put them on and pushed his way deeper into the grass and beneath the shade of the fir and oak trees that crowded the waterline.

He picked up a piece of sharpened and curved rebar that waited beneath the sunfaded blue tarp, took a deep breath and used it to pry open the rusted black barrel.

Her hair drifted when his leg hit the barrel, the blond had faded and now it was a sick brown. She glared up at him, fogged eyes shriveled in the sockets. Face as pale as the day he lost her.

He dropped the bar and slapped his hands over his eyes, his entire body shook as he sobbed.