The Punch Line
@obshaechul
It was raining that night, and most people had removed themselves from the streets. The sun had only just set; it was getting darker by the second. Hands in his pockets, he drudged through puddle after puddle. By the way he was walking, someone at a distance might have assumed he had a limp. He was in one of those moods again, the kind of mood that felt like the world was on his shoulders. He didn’t know where he going, he just didn’t want to sit in his apartment tonight. This was unlike him, who more often than not simply ignored things that would get under a person’s skin, or he would sarcastically laugh it off and move on. But recently, so many little things had built up, and for once, he caved. You couldn’t attribute any single thing to his mood, but his breaking point was more than definable. He had a rough morning at the docks, and he didn’t care too much to remember it in detail as he continued his sullen crusade through the city.
The rain was starting to let up, but he didn’t care either way. His hood was up and his hair was dry and that’s all he cared about in that regard. He soaked his shoes as he made his way across another puddle. He wasn’t being very attentive, not only to his surroundings, but to himself either. He was snapped out of regressing into his sad thoughts by the sound. He glanced around immediately, looking for the source. Nothing around him. He heard it again, even louder this time. He looked down and realized the source of the rumbling. He was hungry. It was too late for most places to be open, and he wasn’t particularly familiar with this side of town. In fact, he didn’t recognize anything around him. He had no idea how long he had been walking, though he remembered that the sun was still above the horizon when he left home. Despite being lost, he didn’t seem too concerned. He kept walking, this time with a purpose.
After a few blocks, he saw a bright neon light hanging over a staircase that appeared to lead to the basement of a building. He didn’t care to look at the name of the bar, but he saw a small chalkboard sitting to the side. The words had been mostly desecrated by the rain, but he could make out the vague implications that there was food inside. He crossed the street in a hurry, and began his descent. There was a thick smog hanging in the air inside, and it began to waft toward him as soon as he opened the door. The bar was dimly lit, with red walls and warm colors accented everywhere. It certainly felt warm, at least in comparison to the cold and damp environment outside. There were no more than ten people here at first glance. None of them seemed terribly interested in Jiho as he walked up to the bar, though he certainly looked out of place here. He glanced around as he made his way by the mostly empty tables. The people here seemed sketchy at best; he realized the smog in the air was the product of a trio of ruffians smoking quietly in the corner. A normal sane person would probably have turned around at the door. This place wasn’t too well-kept, but it certainly wasn’t the messiest place he had been to. He sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. He almost never drank alcohol, but he was beyond being picky at this point.
“What am I doing here?” he murmured to himself. Being here wasn’t going to make him feel better. Why did he even leave his house, for that matter? A cascade of poor decisions led to him being here, though deciding to order another drink wouldn’t be his last poor decision before the sun rose.
