Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
When I reached the door, I realized this guy had left his keys in the lock. That was perfect, because now I had an excuse to strike up a conversation. I removed them before stepping inside.
The bar’s sole occupant was slumped on his stool and didn’t hear me enter. There was an empty whiskey bottle beside him, which suggested he’d been at this a while. He poured a shot from the new bottle he’d just helped himself to and tossed it back. Then he crossed his arms on the bar top and rested his head on them.
I hadn’t planned to sneak up on him. But as I crossed the bar, I was so focused on listening to make sure no one else was in the building that I didn’t let him know I was there. No wonder he seemed startled when he turned around and discovered me just a few feet away.
And as soon as I got a good look at him, I probably seemed as startled as he did. He was beautiful. More than that. Ethereal, that was the word for it—as delicate and unexpected as an angel on earth.
As I drew closer, I saw that his wide-set eyes were green and gold and brown, like a perfect fall day. They were also brimming with tears. There was so much raw emotion in them that it was jarring. It was a little like seeing someone stark naked out on the street—he seemed so vulnerable that my first impulse was to wrap him in a blanket and try to protect him.
We both just stared at each other for a few seconds, until he mumbled, “We…um, we’re closed.”
“No, I know,” I stammered. That was all I could think to say for a moment, as I tried to swim up from the depths of pain and despair in his eyes. Then I remembered the item clutched in my hand and held it out to him. “Your keys were in the door.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
He made no move to take them, so I placed them on the bar. After another pause, I asked, “Are you alright?”
He shook his head and tried to reach for the bottle of whiskey, but he knocked it over. As it began to spill, I lunged forward and righted it. We were very close together now, and he looked up at me as the tears overflowed and tumbled down his cheeks.
It was like a dam broke. He began sobbing so hard that his entire body shook. At the same time, he tipped forward, burying his face in my chest as he clutched my dark suit jacket with both hands.
At first, I didn’t know what to do. I really wasn’t equipped for stuff like this. I held my hands up, as if someone was pointing a gun at me, while he kept sobbing.
Okay, clearly I had to do something to try to comfort him. When I awkwardly put an arm around his shoulders, he grabbed me in a hug and began sobbing even harder. The way he clung to me made my heart ache, in a way I couldn’t really explain.
For lack of any better ideas, I tried stroking his hair, which turned out to be really soft. Surprisingly, that actually seemed to soothe him. His sobs tapered off, and I let myself relax a bit.
After a while, I told him, “If someone hurt you, I can go beat the shit out of them for you.” Seriously. I was good at that, and terrible at whatever I should be doing in this moment.
But he shook his head and mumbled, “My dad died.”
“I’m sorry. Were you close?” It possibly wasn’t the right question to ask in this situation, but it was out of my mouth before I realized that.
“No. I never met him before tonight.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I was at work. I’m an EMT,” he said, by way of explanation.
“Yeah, I figured that out.”
“How?”
“The uniform was a tip-off, especially the big, neon yellow letters on your back.”
He let go of me and sat up a bit. Then he looked down at himself and lifted the flap of his jacket. When he did that, I glimpsed a plastic name tag which said “R. Russo,” above a patch with the name of a local ambulance service.
“I was supposed to change before I left work.” He began patting his pockets as he muttered, “I hope I didn’t forget my stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“My phone and wallet. They were in my locker.” He got up and immediately tripped over something, hitting the floor with an, “Ow.” I moved his stool aside as he shifted around and leaned against the bar. Then he put an open duffle bag on his lap, pulled a phone out of it, and announced, “Found it.”
“That’s good. Want me to help you up?”
“No. I like it down here,” he said, as he set aside the bag and phone. “The room isn’t spinning as much from this angle.”