There was only about a quarter of an inch of Budweiser left in my mug, the sludge and sediment resting at the bottom. I folded my arms on the bar, rested my head upon them and let my nose peek over the glasses’ rim. I breathed slowly, controlled, trying to forget that I hadn’t had a drink in nearly a decade. Trying to deny that my tolerance was low now and that this one beer was making me uneasy.

The shallow passage of air that swept in and out of my nostrils created ripples in the pond at the mugs’ bottom. A mini tidal wave, whose focus was where my breathing impacted, sent currents of alcohol to the edge then bouncing back again to the focal point. Into the void. Into the zero.

One didn’t come here for the great service, the beautiful waitresses or the amazing décor; it had none of those things. You came here to forget.

A tapping on my shoulder awakened me, pulled me from the void I was falling in. Instinct took over. I turned, ready to run, hit or smile; whichever would work best.