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A: $2.99
B: Excuse me?
A: For your beer.
B: Ah, I'm sorry.
Searching through the pockets, finally found the pouch, with one coin. Turned it upside down above the bar and said: "Shake yourself, ox!" Small bronze coins started to fall out of the pouch, clinging on the wooden bar, that I was leaning on, without the bar to rest my feet on, in my Orange Bar. Falling onto each other, forming a Bronze Sea, spilling on the bar, with the shine, as the bulbs shining, the mirror balls flashing.
The bartener was gone. Probably seeing some other guests, taking orders, paying their bills, with their colourful coins, monopoly bills, bartender distributing food, drinks and good mood, taking the money in exchange, collecting the bills, pocketing the tips.
The coins were singing their sad song about endless travelling until the last one fell, the last drop dived into the Bronze Sea and I have turned the pouch upside up.
The song suddenly interupted, the coins shining, gleaming.
The bartender returned, he seemed stunned, putting his arm infront of his eyes to shade the glow.
B: Keep the change.
I was leaving. Unumused, but profesional, he started to count, one by one, two, three, four...
...296, 297, 298, 299, 300.
301. Two pennies tip.
The most tender people
Live in bars.
The call them “the bartenders.”
They do for you
What you ask them to
They provide all the service (not included)
They give you a bill
You pay.
The most tender people
Live in bars.
My footprints in the white snow were following me, in the narrow street in the unknown, noname city, in the Western Hemisphere...
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