Barstool Condolences Pt.1

It was one of those nights. The kind that even amongst a winter of ashen skies, bleak days, and temperatures well below freezing - it still managed to stick out as worse.

The wind was howling  - swirling the very top layer of snow throughout the streets. It wasn't even snow, but just tiny ice crystals piling up to create a powdery, sand-like layer. Snow didn't have a chance to form within these temperatures.

He trudged along, feet shuffling through the inch and a half of icy grit. His hands were dug deeply into his pockets, collar raised around his neck, head down, pushing forward, trying to protect as much skin as he could. Still the wind licked at the corner of his eyes, temping tears to well forth, only to freeze upon contact with the air. His nose wanted to drip, his ears were ringing from the cold, and he could barely feel his feet. All he wanted to do was get inside.

Not far ahead of him was his salvation. Glowing proudly in the swirling streets was the neon "Bar" sign. Somehow it shown through the particles in the air, even when it was a struggle to see the streetlights. The thought of whiskey warmed his core and he quickened his pace.

Reaching the door, he shouldered it open, not wanting to reveal his hand to the elements. The first thing to hit him was the warm smell - of cigarette smoke drifting high in the air, stale beer spilled on the bar, the lightly buttery scent of the popcorn machine in the corner, even the cologne of the regulars, all combining into a cornucopia in his nostrils. It smelled like a drunk's Thanksgiving. Once he was inside and the door swung shut, he slowly removed his hands from his pockets, flexing them softly, trying to regain some blood flow. Next came his hat, followed by his scarf. As warm as it was in the bar - he still felt naked without them wrapped tightly around his body. It had been a long winter and it had become habit.

He waved and nodded at those he recognized and took a seat at the bar. Two shots of whiskey. Filled up. One went immediately - tingling every inch of his throat on it's way down. He waited a few seconds and let out a sigh. Down went the second one - sending a gentle warmth throughout his body.

He ordered a beer. When it arrived he took a sip, slumped his shoulders and began to relax. A storm was brewing outside - he could hear the wind kicking savagely at the door. It was going to be a long night, but he didn't mind. With nothing else to do - he decided he would wait it out. It would be nice - he was sure no one else would be foolish enough to come out in this weather.

He turned when the front door rattled and she walked in, bundled up. He only caught a quick glimpse of her in the smoke-filled, dimly lit entrance, but he recognized her and the tears frozen against her cheeks.

Tonight would be different.