Blue Monday | Alice & Jack
saintsea:
Oh god, why did he engage? That was his one rule. Never engage, unless they were instantly hitting on him, almost guaranteeing him for a fun night. He didn’t want to discuss life stories, exchange tells of being an immigrant. That time of his life felt long ago, considering he hadn’t been back to Ireland to visit in ages.
He took another long and much needed swig of his drink.
The girl seemed nice enough, playful in her banter about Nessie. It was nice, she was nice, which was a red flag that he should probably stop talking to her right away. He had the tendency to ruin nice things.
“The American dream,” he said sarcastically, holding up his glass of whiskey before letting out a dry laugh. Thinking about his family was something he didn’t want to do, but it was something he always did. After a moment of silence, the man shrugged and let out a small sigh. “Oh, y’know. Opportunity arose here. My father got a better job that could support us. That sort of thing, y’know. You?”
Wait, why is he continuing the conversation? Always breaking the rules, always engaging and pretending he didn’t want to be.
“Opportunities, right,” Alice nodded, taking a sip of her drink and chuckling. “Can’t get enough of those.” Though it was hypocritical of her to say. She had written down amazing adventures inspired by the unbelievable imagination of her beloved father, but when it came to her own adventures, she fell short. Her family was under the impression that she had been out in New York making money move, getting in talks with publishing companies and whatnot-- though she didn’t have the heart to tell them that she was in writer’s block. She couldn’t get the attention of any publishers much less write a whole novel, instead packaging her words in small, tiny, uncredited greeting cards.
Whoa, that was quite a hole she had dug herself into, and she hadn’t even mentioned the fact that she had been stood up on a date she thought would change her horizons about, you know, being blocked. If that wasn’t enough reason to chug down the rest of her drink, she didn’t know what it would take. She slammed down the glass against the bar.
“Sorry,” she said, chuckling, having forgotten a bit that the bartender was still there. “Neway. It’s closing time and I, err, should get out of your hair. Sorry about taking up the real estate,” she said, putting down a ten dollar bill. “Thank you...” she squinted her eyes in search of a nametag but didn’t find one, trailing off.














