Freedom is Worth Celebrating

“Do you love me?” she asked.

Yes, he said.

“Then why are you so far away?” she asked.

You’re drunk, he said.

“Maybe.”

In a far room of the restaurant, a singer crooned the lyrics of Elton John songs into a microphone. It reverberated through the room in which they sat. The fuzzy glow of lights on the bar emanated warmth though the room was cold. She hugged her arms.

He wanted to reach out to her but he didn’t. He wanted to look into her pool-like eyes but he didn’t. He wanted to tell her that she was the most real person he’d ever met but he didn’t.

I’m drunk, he said.

“Maybe,” she said, looking over his shoulder at the patio tables being pelted with fat raindrops. The sky was a silvery sheet.


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