In front of the mirrors stood several bottles of a mans cure for loneliness at high percentages of volume.
Three men sat at the bar
one with worn tattoos of a man who would have fought in his younger years, nowadays reputation and confrontation were a mere distant dream.
Another in a striped shirt with a plain hair cut. Two drinks he had to reflect his stressful work and difficult family life.
The other wearing a gray beanie and a lumber jack shirt, his posture was juxtaposed to the other two, still he managed to balance the chip on his shoulder.
The barmaid was away in a back room somewhere on a personal call on the pubs telephone. She was a loud mouth, swearwords were commonplace in her vocabulary and what to her was a normal conversation could cause avalanches in mountains of snow.
The tension between the men was tough and couldn’t be chipped with angle grinders or chainsaws.
They all smiled and adjusted their body language to be more friendly as the barmaid walked back into the bar.
“HI boys” she said with a smile on her face. They all nodded and the tattooed man asked for another beer while the other two smirked.