“ OOOOOOOH ! A yo-ho-ho an’ a bottle o’ rum!“
The last notes of the shanty crashed through the bar, and uproarious laughter spread through the small room filled with sailors, sea dogs, and unusually interested women.
Whistles, cat-calls, and orders for more beer followed, and soon a lively chatter replaced the laughter, which still burst in here and there.
However, one man did not join in the laughter, or pay heed to the lasses hanging off his elbow. He merely stared into his glass, with distant eyes, as frosted as his mug.
The barkeeper looked at him somberly, taking his eyes off the shouting crowd for a second to ponder the existence of this lone man.
What could have possibly put him in such a state as this? He walked in every evening, and stayed until early morning, every day without fail.
The barkeeper sighed, and put his watchful eye back on the cursed sailors, making sure things didn’t get too out of hand.
He didn’t even notice when the man stood up and left, for the first time in ten long years.