Are You Coming With Me? Essay
She couldn’t quite place him but he greeted her as an old friend, unfazed by her lack of reciprocation. Curiously he had an air of familiarity about him, like a background noise you had heard but never took much notice of. She concluded, therefore, that his question must not have been directed at her. He persisted and addressed her again.
“Do you know where you are? Forgive me, few that I meet here, truly know where they are without some guidance”, sliding over to the stool next to hers.
“So you come here often then?”
“Yes, perhaps more often than I would like. It can be more of a chore than a pleasure at times,”
“Do you work here or something?”
He smiled, taking a moment to consider his answer.
“I suppose you could very well interpret my charge here in that manner.”
He spoke with a strangely formal parlance that for many he met, warranted some suspicion, though it did not tarnish him in her eyes. Her train of thought was interrupted however as it struck her that she in fact did not know where she was, or how she came to be there. Her surroundings included a dusty wooden bar top, at which she and her acquaintance were sitting, encompassed by what she assumed must have been a rather grandiose bar in its prime, though now much like its few patrons had become old and dilapidated. The labels on the bottles had peeled and faded, the cushions on the seating worn and punctured and the wood from which almost all the fixtures were made looked as though it…