An Observation

He sat at a corner table, where he could be away from the bustle. After work on Fridays, he liked to sit and nurse a drink and try to finish the crossword in the paper to offload the week. Teaching was getting to him more and more these days testing his patience and compassion to the limit. And beyond.

The bar staff looked barely old enough to drink – students trying to rake back some of their loans, probably. A girl in a short top, loose jeans and what looked like outsized carpet slippers shuffled listlessly around the bar collecting glasses and yawning. He could see the navel piercing glint on her slightly chubby belly and felt a faint stab of desire. He forced himself to look away.

At the bar a man in his mid-forties, smart and well-groomed, kept checking his watch and looking towards the door. Expecting what? He seemed anxious, his foot tapping on the bar stool in time to some rhythm all his own. Somebody was late for something.

There was raucous laughter from the other end of the bar, a group that looked like pensioners but was howling like a stag party. If it was a stag party, the choice of costume was peculiar, as they all seemed to be ready to hike a mountain. Cagoules, hiking boots, backpacks. Out of place for a pub in the centre of a city not known for its rugged surroundings. They all seemed to be on the mineral water, healthy red-cheeked jovial men with beards. A folk band on sabbatical.

You done with that one? the girl said, bored and not meeting his glance.

Think so, he said and pushed it towards her, his eyes again drawn to the piercing.

Ok, she said, reaching for the glass. Her intonation rose slightly into a question. Did she mean the glass or the piercing?

Absolutely, he replied, thinking she could read it as she preferred, but she was already on the move. He was determined not to watch her go, but did it anyway.

He felt discovered. An imposter.

Through the grimy bar windows he could see it was starting to rain again.