Samuel Johnson rubbed the goosebumps that had risen on his arms and pushed the gossiping bartender aside, "Shut up, you're so annoying," he snarled.
Seeing that he still cared about face, the bartender huffed and went to wipe some glasses.
Samuel leaned listlessly on the bar. He had no desire to drink, and pulled his phone from his pocket. He aimlessly scrolled through his contacts and, without thinking, dialed Amanda Smith's number.
As he watched the call connect, he should have hung up, but as if possessed, he let it ring. Perhaps deep down, he had wanted to call her all along.
After a while, which was only a matter of seconds but felt longer to Samuel, a gentle female voice came from the other end, "Hello?"
The sound of her voice filled him with a sense of inexplicable grievance. He slumped over the bar and said into the phone, "I'm drunk."
