Fatigue flows through your veins like a slow-acting poison. Your body, dully aching, can no longer stand the meaningless, identical days. And the emptiness is only reflected in your eyes, which once did not see much of what you now want to keep silent about.

In the rapidly flowing time, like sand, there is nothing left for yourself. The last of your strength dissolves on the streets while you walk home after a long, unbearable day, thinking only about sending everything to hell, collapsing into bed without taking a shower, and passing out before the nasty ringing of the alarm clock. The soul does not find peace, exhausted by its own disappointments. And it hums in your head worse than a siren.

But then you stop at an establishment, take a beer that you thought you would never drink, sit down on the street and take your first sips, thinking about the despair that brought you here.

In the midst of the first difficult gulps, you don't immediately notice someone's blue eyes looking at you, only the smoke from the vape the stranger was holding prevents you from seeing his face. He chuckled slightly, as if mocking, but at the same time surprised by the situation.

"You sat at an occupied table, I was here before," he said calmly, as if he were addressing an acquaintance. "But don't get up, I'm leaving now."

The man reached for his empty beer glass and stubbed out his cigarette with his long fingers. His dark hair fell in disarray over his face, hiding his fatigue.

It's funny how people get tired in the same way, come to such places to clear their heads, and still remain strangers...

"It's none of my business, of course, but didn't you sit down to meet someone?" he asked in a measured voice. "It's kind of weird not to notice other people.

He gestured to the people at the nearby tables and then to the empty seats, raising an eyebrow slightly. The shadow of a smile flickered across his face.