love

he'd always loved this place. well, maybe love is a strong word, especially for a place like this smoky bar. but he liked it here. he liked the comfort of his whiskey and his book, and his always half-smoked cigar. he enjoyed overhearing the meaningless chatter of the girls clinging to the bar counter. watching the waitress clean the tables, practically twirling back and forth between the them. he liked watching her. her hair was brown, straight, long. three times a week, he came here. mondays, thursdays and saturdays. it was his second home, basically half his heart. yeah, maybe he actually did love this place. even if love is a strong word to use for a bar.