The atmosphere on the inside was nothing like the place from the outside. The quaint little house on the edge of the Mediterranean with a red brick roof and white clay walls screamed comfort and softness. As did the sign hanging over the door on the first story, inviting any who may pass by to come in the door. The inside was a mixture of wood and metal, a rustic sort of design, but beautiful nonetheless. There was a wall in the back with a various collection of drinks for any who could be daring enough to ask for them. The bar was a simple wood counter that was shining like it had never seen dust in the muted daylight coming from outside. There were two men sitting at the bar. To the untrained eye, maybe even the trained one, the two looked nothing alike. One was tall and skinny with a surprisingly sharp jawline and dark, smoky features. He wore a collared black shirt with buttons running all the way down the front and a pair of tan dress pants. The clothes went well with his black hair and light brown eyes. The other man was rather short, or perhaps just hunched over. He was a portly sort of guy wearing suspenders and a white button down with a red tie. His hair slicked back in a business sort of way. The two men did not talk to each other, despite being so close at the bar. If one were to look at them, the lyrics of a certain song might come to mind. "They're sharing a drink called loneliness, but it's better than drinkin' alone." The two looked downcast despite the good atmosphere of the empty bar around them.
After a while, the short man turned to the tall one and said to him in a puzzling tone, "Why are you drinking here alone on a Tuesday friend?" The tall man suppressed a chuckle and answered back, "Probably the same reason as you, friend." The short man let out a chuckle and muttered, "Yeah right." He then looked at the ceiling as if trying to forget about something behind his eyes that wouldn't stop playing. Almost like a move that kept playing even after the one watching fell asleep or lost interest. The tall man noticed and sighed. He said, "Let me tell you something friend. I'm an author, and I've read a lot of books, maybe I can help." The short man looked at him in surprise and gestured as if to say that he was welcome to try. The tall man took a sip from his glass and fixed his eyes in a direction that was everywhere and nowhere all at once, while also being the back of the bar. "My favorite novel has a quote that goes something like this. 'When life kicks you down into the dirt, instead of trying so hard to get up, sometimes we think that we should just stay and rest for a while. Then, some realize that dirt will never be more than dirt, never a home, never a sky to frolic under, never something to give any warmth as it has no life. Those people reach for the sky again and again, not matter how much dirt they get on their fancy suits of self-righteousness and pity. They reach for warmth, love, and freedom. But they leave behind the people in their lives that just want to stick to the dirt. We all leave people to the dirt, and we will all one day return to the dirt, but who is to say that we cannot stand up and see over the counter for a while. You can really apply this knowledge to anything in life, but most contribute it to love. Everyone knows that all love will end one day, whether it be because of life, or because of death. Yet, people still strive for it if only to feel warm and accepted for a short period, even though it may be fake. But those people almost always get kicked back into the dirt. My only advice to you is, don't be satisfied with the wall the dirt puts in front of your metaphorical eyes, and reach over the edge, even if just for a second, and you will find everything you have been waiting for."
The short man was starstruck, wondering at how the man who seemed so much younger than him could be so much wiser. The tall man just extended a hand to him and said, "I hope that can help you understand why I'm here on a Tuesday. Friend." Then, he got up, paid his tab, and walked out. As he left, he left something of importance behind with the short man. A lesson he would never forget. And as if to make sure the man would never forget the words of the mysterious stranger, the tall man was wrapped in a soft halo of light with the vague shape of wings as a halo appeared just above his head. With a wink to the window of the bar, he flew back to where he had come from, the alcohol still sitting on his brain. "Tuesday huh, why would I drink on a Tuesday? Because you were there, friend."