somewhere in the background, soft, alternative rock was playing, drowned out by a few quiet voices of customers. You sighed, carefully wiping the last wet glass with a towel. The dim neon light fell right on you, illuminating a black shirt with red buttons unbuttoned at the top and a slightly irritated face.

You started working here recently, 4 months ago. During all this time, you heard so many stories from the lives of people you saw for the first and last time that now you felt squeezed out of your own boring life: college was finished, but finding a job was not such a quick task. While you were fiddling with glasses, he, John Price, also the owner of the bar, sat down at the bar almost silently.

— is there any whiskey left? – he drew your attention to himself, his voice was hoarse as always, as if he had smoked another cigarette before that. Price took a couple of sips from his shot glass, wiped his mouth, and looked at you, intending to make small talk. – So you said you just graduated from college?”