From a prompt

The tall glass slams against the bar.

 

"Sorry." Dave waves off the sudden attention from everyone. He scans the room and breathes when he doesn't recognize any faces. Actually, he wouldn't care; there is only person he doesn't feel like seeing.

He brings the drink to his lips.

 

The bartender, Mr. Jake Reynolds himself, catches Dave smiling maliciously. Leaning onto his right hand, Jake asks, "What in the Hell is so funny?" Startled, Dave glances at him to make sure he's not imagining things again. He has a tendency of doing crazy shit like that, especially after a few beers. The bartender gets laughter from the others, "Yeah, I'm talking to you, Blondie!"

 

"Nothing is funny," Dave murmurs, growing irritated. "I was just-"

 

Reynolds finishes for him, "Laughing!" The other guys chuckle again; it is obvious who the alpha is around here.

 

Through his teeth, Dave hisses, "I was just thinking." He looks off, in hopes these clowns will let him be. Why do they keep laughing and poking fun? He has too much on his mind to be ridiculed. They don't know him. What right does this asshole have overstepping his boundaries like this? Standing, Dave fishes in his jean pocket for a twenty and then dodges it at Jake. "I'll be on my way out," he tells them, motioning towards the exit.

 

Jake defensively holds up his hands. "You took me too personally, brother," he says, and if it wasn't for the surrounding jack-offs, Dave may have listened. "Come stay for a couple more!"

 

But it is already too late. He shoves his way through the roaring crowd of drunks. Why can't they move out of his goddamn way? When he finally reaches the exit, he pulls out a pack of smokes. 

 

Puffing black clouds, Dave overlooks the filled parking lot. His car needs gas. He needs money. His son needs him. "Damn," he finds himself whisper. "Why's everything gotta be so complicated?" His rusty baby blue convertible is right there, but he decides to sit under the maple tree.

 

He closes his eyes. Dave grabs fistfuls of grass and aimlessly throws them. He feels four instead of forty, being stripped of his priveledges and all. The ashes spewing into the ground, Dave drops his cigaratee and steps on it. Feeling powerful, he keeps stepping on it, over and over again to make some kind of point.

 

"What are you doing?" he hears a voice.

 

He looks up. In front of him stands a woman, probably in her late twenties. Her eyes shine deep blue; into a low ponytail her hair is tied. As if they've already been acquainted, she takes a seat beside him, cross-legged.

 

"Excuse me...do I know you?"

 

She laughs. "Don't be an asshole. I'm just being friendly," she replies, twisting a strand of grass around her finger.

 

He argues, "I'm not being an asshole; I just don't know who you are."

 

Stretching her legs, she loudly takes in the autumn breeze. The sound makes Dave cringe. As hard as he's been trying to quit, he reaches and grabs yet another cigarette. People like her are the reason, he thinks to himself. Reading his mind, she asks, "Why do you do that to yourself?"

 

Dave groans. She is as bad as his seven year old daughter! From the side of his mouth, he blows smoke and interjects, "I'm not sure why it concerns you."

 

"I guess I just don't like to see people die," she answers, shrugging. His bushy eyebrows knead together. Why can't she just go someplace else? Of all places- he cranes to look around- she had to pick right here? She laughs again, cold and metallic. "Something's on YOUR mind."

 

He stumbles to his feet and folds his arms over each other. "You're correct!" he exclaims angrily. "Something IS on my mind. But, I don't know you. Therefore-"

 

"Therefore?" She snickers. "Who are you? William Shakespeare?"

 

"Goodbye." He spins his back towards her and begins to march off. He pretty much lost sight of her, or so he thinks. Something- or someone- yanks at his shoulder, and he staggers backwards with his mouth hung agape. Cheeks burning red, Dave prepares to scream in her face, to tell her off right then and there. He has too much to worry about already!

 

"Would you just chill out?" she snaps, and he sighs. The stranger fidgets with her loose ponytail before continuing, "I was in the bar. I don't think you saw me. But...you seemed like you were having a rough day, okay? So I thought I'd make sure everything was all right."

 

The inside of his cheek is bitten. "And what makes you think that?" he dares to ask. He is so sick of people intruding into his life.

 

Slyly, she smiles and puts her hands on her hips. "Your shirt. It's...it's on backwards."