Confindants

confidante
It is Monday and here I am drinking alone. Lost in solitude and making an eye contact with space.The caress my drink is getting is easily in the neighborhoods of a wish for my girl to be. This is intimate conversation between confidants. The kind that senior counsel has with his corrupt client. It is a muted companionship; a symbiotic existence. I am a legume and my drink is Rhizobia.
The bar is deserted. It is as sparsely populated as the marginalized North Eastern regions of Kenya. At a corner are a couple musing over a packet of Delmonte juice. To my far left is the DJ interacting with his paraphernalia. Next to him is a lone soul. He is submerged in his own world. Sipping from his glass while hunched over to stare at his phone.
Once in a while he looks towards me. Our eyes just met for the third time. I swear I wasn’t looking his way. The music is smooth like the thick Amarula cream liqueur he is drinking. It’s making me feel as if I am a ruler. The feeling is the reason for this peace and thus piece.
I am at the counter. I love the tall stools. But I hate locking eyes with the waiter. she keeps looking at me with that inquisitive look; a look that is seeks to make you have side drinks. The round face is acne infested. Her ass is inviting though. And the bow tie. Beyond her, the bottles arranged appealingly are tempting. I want to have a tot of everything. Jack Daniels, Jameson, Johnnie walker, Richot are all calling with the voice of a woman in need. But I am faithful to my beer.
A sensation created when a dry tongue meets an ice cold drink is nothing but pure relieve. The kind that teachers are supposed to contract when finally the court of appeal dismisses the triplet appeals filed against them by their haters. A sensation that is identical to one that you feel after the game hits minute 90 before Manchester makes a come back on Arsenal.
The ample fuse of the music and lighting and silence is priceless. When nonchalant music plays and no one thrusts their guttural voice in between, I call that silence. When no music is playing and no one is speaking, I call that relaxed ambiance. I choose silence every time.   I want this moment to last for ever. So I can replenish my withering soul. So I can reset my heart. So I can clear my head of the worries of this world. So I can write.
I don’t want this sweet moment to be a memory. I don’t want it to pass like any other. I don’t want to lose the gaze from that woman I don’t want.
If I am allowed to create my own heaven then dear Lord I am done. I am ready to spend my eternity. Yeah Lord, I have thought this over and won’t regret. Make my wish come true before I get drunk.
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