Strangers

He's on his fifth bottle of cheap beer on this cheap bar, yet his aim of drowse and nausea still remains far fetched. Life was never good at him and love? Oh how he loathed love from the very first time he felt (and lost) it. The night is still young, he muttered as he takes another sip of the cheap beer.

Slowly, the bar with the size of two classrooms, is filled with people, some much younger than him, some with bigger and more prominent beer-belly. He hates the youth today. How careless and promiscuous they have been. Much more, he hates how these young people treats love like its a necessity. Fucking fools.


His thoughts wandered too far that he didn't realize the bar being full. Every table has been taken, waiters rushing about taking orders, people laughing, drinking, smoking. He hates being surrounded by this many people, yet its the only place he never felt alone. They may seem strangers to him, but somehow, he thinks they're here for the same reason as him, and somehow, that makes him feel connected with these strangers. Once, his mother told him that the saying "Don't talk to strangers" is not true. Everyone is a stranger, if you ain't gonna talk to 'em, you might be missing out the chance to find you best friend, or your wife. He loved  his mother, but the last time he followed this advice, he woke up naked and robbed in a cheap hotel room. So for safety's sake, he never did try to talk to strangers again.

He can feel the alcohol in his veins, Finally. Suddenly, the lights dimmed and the upbeat music was muted. Everyone's eyes was drawn to a lone slender figure sitting on a stool on a stage. As if on cue, she started strumming her guitar. It was sad melody she's playing, as if each of the six strings has their own sad story. He's trying hard not to mind and listen, then she started singing. He swore on his mother's grave that he will never fall in love for someone who sings, like his mother and many other women fell for his father. But tonight, he gave in.

It seems like the she's singing for him, every word  he felt, every word sent chills in his spine. It's just the alcohol,  but he knew, it's really him. She went on to her next song and he found himself on the beach walking on the white sand while holding her hand. It was a lovely sunset, he was with someone lovely, it was a lovely moment, yet he knows that it was something not bound to happen. She's just another stranger who can sing. But something in him screams otherwise. She began her third song and he found himself in his bed, making love with her while the rain falls from the sky. There was silent moans and heavy breathing that sounded rather peaceful. His hands seem to know its way around her body, his lips seem to remember hers, but he knew that she was a stranger. He dismissed the thought and continued on drinking his beer. He's become cautious with his thoughts, as if someone can read them.

The last time he felt like this, it ended bad. Yet again, his fears started to haunt him. He never invested in something he was never sure of. For years he treated life as if it's a business.But what's there left to lose? Tonight is different, he wasn't sure if its the alcohol or him, but tonight, he wants to be in love. He became ecstatic, wishing the night will end fast. Everyone seems to be enjoying, everyone is smiling as if they have an idea that he has found love. Once again he felt connected, thanking everyone for their smiles, regardless of what it's for. He found himself enjoying the night. He was just sitting there, listening to her while she sings for him. Can she feel me too?

The night retired and everyone went home, accompanied with either a friend or their wasted self. Not him. He saw her by the bar, hesitantly, he walks over to her. As if on cue, her eyes caught his, his smile caught hers. Then they knew, that this was indeed a different night. They were random strangers, but who isn't? Mom was right, don't talk to strangers is not true at all. If it was, what a lonely world had this been.