It wasn’t the smell of old smoke and the fresh air rushing in, it was the smell of everything. It combined and rolled into this growing feeling of sadness. The ceiling was dropped so low I could run my hand across the blackened tiles. I’m sure they used to be bright shinny silver that reflected light into the now dark dust covered corners. The guy’s bathroom was a hallway with a toilet at the end of it and a smudged mirror from waist high up on the left side. It was positioned in such a way that if someone came barging in they could catch your eye and see what you were holding in a glance. I tried to situate myself so all they saw was my back, but exposed myself on the right side to a quick glance down the tunnel of piss. I only call it this because only twenty minutes after getting there pee was covering the floor. Stickers coverd the far wall too, white squares with a picture of unraveled TP saying something about poopoo and food. A green sticker used to be on the inside of the door, streaks of lime green show the direction at the attempted removal. There was a room next door full of smelly people that when the door the sweat stink of that kid from middle school’s armpit would waft into the bar.

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Dive Bar

Posted on

May 20th, 2008

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