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Late Night in the Bar - Story 2

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Pan to the back of the bar. The 15 year old is back. The sweet, kind owner let her spend the night. A small cot and a blanket was set up for her before closing time. The owner, an old black woman, has soft wrinkles, each representing a story from her past, from the Great Depression to Woodstock to the first iPhone. “Oh, how time has past,” she thinks.
As the 15 year old rubs her eyes, her blurry gaze slowly becomes clearer. She shakes her hair loose, sits up, unzips that same dark blue duffel, and sees a photo of her mom and dad, before everything happened. Flashbacks from happier times fly through her mind like a stop motion movie. The countless hugs and kisses shared throughout the years and the tears of joy, now turned into tears of depression, pain her heart and draw those same tears to those same eyes. She misses the life that took place only two weeks ago. She misses seeing those who still continue to love her everyday. She misses the feeling of knowing that, no matter what was done, it could be fixed. She grabs a pair of slightly dirty jeans, one of three of her brother’s old shirts that she took with her before she left, and her school sweatshirt, and changes in the bathroom. She pins her hair up. No makeup is required because she never took off last night’s. She blinks away the remaining tears, thanks the owner, says she may be back later, grabs her dark blue duffel, and walks out of the bar, her chin up, but her heart sinking lower with every step she takes away from home.





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