In a lonely bar secluded to a small town, sat a well dressed man running from a mistake. He sips his scotch as his eyes fall to the counter. As most of the great cliché’s did, Randal was determined to drink his problems away. He was in no danger from what he had done but how it left him feeling inside was far worse than a bullet to the head. A sigh escapes his lips as he taps an index finger upon the oak counter top signaling for more. “I don’t know man.” The bar tender says, “I don’t think drinking your depressions away is good.” Randal smirks, “I didn’t ask your opinion friend, I asked for more scotch.” He explains, slight irritation to his tone. The bar tender shrugs, “You know, it’s none of my business but.” He pauses and shakes his head as he wipes a glass clean. His glasses glint in the light as he continues his advice, “No matter how much you run from something… or try to drown it.. it will still be there.” Randal cuts him off with a laugh, “Until I confront it right?” He says with an ominous smile, “Isnt that what you were going to say? Until I Confront it?” He slams the counter with two fists and yells. “You don’t know the situation! You don’t know how I feel inside! I am not confronting shit any time soon now fill the dam glass unless my money is no good here!” The bar falls silent, as he sigh’s and sit down. The rain taps upon the glass while Randal rubs his head, “Im sorry.” He says. The bar tender shrugs again setting the glass down, “What ever.” He says. “Drink yourself to death.. im just an old bar tender what do I know?” Randal shakes his head, “It isn’t like that.” He attempts to explain but is cut off by the bar tenders hand in a go away motion. Randal simply shakes his head as his eyes return to the counter.. and he quietly sips his scotch.