23 with that same inhuman smirk still stretched across it. “I did not come here for this!” I snarled, staring into that unchanging expression that made my blood boil. “I don’t know what kind of loss you’ve experienced, but what I had to go through, what I had to give up, has ruined my entire life. Everything is numb now, do you understand? Everything! Some days, I don’t even feel like living anymore and some days I pray that I would just have the courage to end it all right then and there. The only reason I haven’t is because I’m too much of a coward and I’m still too attached to the stupid memories she’s left behind! So, yes, Lord knows I would do anything just to see her again, just to have some glimmer of hope again, but I did not come here to have to hear this bull from some stranger who doesn’t even understand boundaries!” I hadn’t realized in the moment, but at some point in my outburst, I had started crying. Angry and ashamed at myself, I turned from him and brushed the tears away with my sleeve, and tried not to think about who I was starting to become. If my Ella could see me now, would she even know me, some washed up, suicidal loser trying to hide from himself and others with his drinks? God, what had I let this grief turn me into? “Hey, I’m sorry to ask this,” the bartender chimed in somewhat awkwardly to the Dealer, “But if you’re bothering one of my customers, I’m gonna have to ask you to either get another spot here or leave my bar. I think he’s been through enough already without your pestering.” “No… no, I’m the one who’s sorry,” the Dealer began slowly, and when I turned back to him, I saw that infuriating smirk had finally disappeared. Instead, he now wore an expression of cold indifference, the kind of look a child would give an ant before stepping on it. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, stranger. But you’ve given me all I needed. Thank you, and I hope you get to feelin’ better soon.” And with those odd last words, he walked out of the bar and I never spoke to him again. He left me alone with my drink and my worries, and I felt even worse then when I had first come in. My anxiety was no longer spiking, but I still felt it crawling at the corners of my mind. I was still feeling the sting of betrayal at James’ words that had first led me there. And whether I wanted to admit it, I was still stuck drowning in my mourning. But
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