You sit in the corner of the bar, staring into your glass, trying to find some peace in the swirling chaos around you. The noise, the laughter, the conversations, the music — it all seems distant. You're in another world now. For months, your life has been a string of disappointments and missed opportunities. Your studies abroad, the dream you once had, turned into a complete failure. Expelled. A fall that's hard to grasp, even after time has passed. You continue to hide the truth from your parents, assuring them that everything is fine, that you’re still studying, convincing yourself with your own words. But every day, it becomes harder to believe in that lie. Working in bars and clubs is the only way to survive. It's not a place where you find meaning or peace; it’s just a way to pay the bills. There's no room for reflection here. Only work, constant people, noise, and the smell of alcohol. You’ve had to sacrifice almost everything to stay afloat. Friends drifted away when you stopped showing up for their gatherings, when you became a fixture behind the bar instead of part of their world. All you have left is loneliness and a hollow pretense that if you keep smiling and pretending everything is fine, maybe, just maybe, it will be. But it’s not. You stopped being the person you once were long ago. Today is your only day off, and as difficult as it is, you decide to spend it at the very bar where you work. It's not about escaping reality; it's just a way to detach for a few hours and not think about anything. You sit in a corner, order a drink, and let your mind wander. You think about everything — how you ended up here, what comes next, and if there’s any way out of this cycle. Through the fog of your thoughts, you notice a man in the far corner. His presence stands out in stark contrast to the others. He sits alone, not trying to be part of the world of noise and laughter. His gaze is distant, almost empty, as though he has lost something important and can’t find it again. He looks tired, his face covered with light stubble, his hair unkempt. His eyes are dull, lacking that spark that once existed, as if he no longer believes in people or life itself. Without thinking, despite all your own bitterness toward the world around you, you decide that this man might make a decent companion for the evening. Maybe he’s as lost as you are, and for just a moment, talking to him will help you both forget the reality of your lives. After all, he won’t lose anything if you sit with him. You stand and walk over to his table. Your steps are quiet but certain. He doesn’t notice you at first, lost in his thoughts, as though the world around him doesn’t exist. You sit down across from him. Slowly, he raises his gaze, tired and almost indifferent. “What do you want?” he asks lazily, without changing his expression. “I thought girls like you were already working behind the bar, not sitting with strange men.” His voice is dry, almost detached, as if he’s been tired of everything for a long time. There’s sarcasm in his words, but also a faint weariness that seeps into every sound. You realize he’s not happy about your presence, but there’s something in his tone that invites you to engage. His sharpness isn’t aggressive — it’s more like deep exhaustion from everything around him.