Boredom hit him as soon as he sat himself into one of the bar stools. He was watching the bartender, who seemed to have all fun out of his soul, absentmindedly as the former was mixing his drink. The muffled vocals and low drum beats of an indie alternative song resonated through the pub, with the sounds of low chatter thrown in between. He took a look over his shoulder and observed his surroundings quickly. People were holding their glasses of wine and liquor, mingling with each other. Some were seated in the worn vintage couches, while others stood and leaned against the pub’s metal high top tables. He caught a strong whiff of cheap cologne and still felt himself gagging, even after rooming with a lot of guys who owned similar variants of the fragrance.

He turned back and focused to the drink that had been served in front of him. He watched the amber liquid and tapped at the glass in apathy. He wondered why would he even agree to come to this place. His friends, who were already in deep conversation with a group of girls at a distant table, and he were just back from a house party, ungodly early, because, using his friend’s words, “This party .”

Then while walking back to their shared accommodation, they passed through a pub in a rather vibrant street near a college. He really wished he diverted his friends into a more exciting place before they all went inside this pub. His friends were quite enjoying the pub, though, who were then laughing along with girls. He was pretty sure they were going to be there for a long time. He was trying his best not being a party-pooper and leave as soon as he entered, so he complied with his friends’ requests. He was going through a rough week, with what his family urging him to continue his studies in an American Ivy League university.

He just wanted some fleeting moments of fun and color before being leashed to a monotonous hell called the white-collared world, after all, and his friends were the only ones he could truly be himself with. He was just tired of pretending.

And then he heard a low thump that he would eventually be grateful to hear that night.

He looked at it was the sound of black-rimmed glasses being thrown haphazardly to the bar counter. A sigh followed after and a woman with a long ponytail slumped to the stool next to him. He saw her let down her hair, and he had to fight his heart’s want to skip a beat.

Now, he was not one to fall into instant infatuation, or a shallow person who was only interested in looks, as some people, ladies and gents, would accuse him to be. But something about this girl was striking to him. And no, it’s not about her beauty or her glossy black hair, although he had to admit that she was gorgeous. But he’d had his share of attractive girls. It’s just that something about her body language and how she held herself reminded him of himself.

It was the way she sighed and sat in lethargy and frustration, or how her back was held so straight, or how she had her chin high, even after what he thought was a moment of relaxation. It was almost stiff, as though she had to look professional and tough to impress and prove her worth to people. The crazy amount of need to look strong and capable had even prevented her to totally lose herself even when the people in the same room were strangers and were most probably not noticing her.

He could feel for the woman sitting next to him. But that was probably the alternative music and the overall mood of the pub speaking.

He voiced his thoughts after a sheer moment of hesitation. “Long day, huh?”

He only got a huff in return.

Feeling no offense at her lack of reply, his concentration went back to his drink.

He could hear a distinct shuffle of things being moved and microphones being , and instinctively averted his gaze to the source of sound. It was from the empty stage at a corner of the bar, where most people were seated. Difference was, the stage was no longer empty. It was occupied by three lanky men sporting long hairstyles, who were then adjusting their instruments. The lead vocals was doing some weird vocal practice, which was unfortunately heard due to his close vicinity to the mic.

“Oh God, they’re starting,” the woman next to him said.

He looked at her and realized that she had turned her seating position around, now sitting while facing the live band, elbows rested on the back to the counter. He copied her and said, “What?”

“The monstrosity that you’re about to hear,” she replied simpl