A Night in the Corner of the Bar - Story 1

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Pan to the back of a bar. A lonely girl, not more than 15, sits in the corner. Her dark blue duffel hangs on the corner, filled with clothes and few items of memorabilia. Her eyes, clouded with thought, wander the bar, examining each and every person. She sees an old man, drinking his sorrows away, his pain somehow evaporating with every shot he ingests. Next comes the 19 year old girl. Her head rests on the counter, her hands on her stomach, and her makeup and tears run down the alcohol-stained wood. She wonders what to do, for the things that have been said cannot be taken back, and her stomach pains at the thought of taking care of a child, being just a child herself. As she, the girl in the corner, grips her much-stained coffee cup to the point of having knuckles as white as snow, she wonders why she left. Then she realizes, leaving was wrong, but staying home was killing her. For she is an artist. A razor was her paintbrush, the canvas was her wrist. <3

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