The energy throughout the entire room
is practically explosive. The stale smell of alcohol engulfs the entire room.
Everyone’s eyes are glassy from consuming copious amounts of the liquid escape
that everyone in the room has been craving. There are bodies bumping into
bodies. The sultry sounds of the saxophone dance against the walls. Girls in
knee-length fringe dresses lazily sway to the music. They’re doing dances that
are deemed provocative by today’s standards. Between the stock market crash and
an impending war, it’s the release everyone needs. Nothing about this room is
right. But, then again, everything about this room is right.
The burly bartender turns the golden,
glass bottle upside down hovering over the gleaming, clear glass. Glug, glug,
glug. The pure gold liquor slowly fills up the small glass until it finally
spills out onto the dark mahogany bar. The bartender shrugs, knowing that
there’s plenty of it left in an underground compartment beneath the wooden
floorboards. The liquid burns my lips and throat as it goes down. It makes my
entire body warm and sends shivers down my spine. My thoughts become duller and
duller as I let my body sway with the sweet sounds of the saxophone that is
continually filling the room. I keep asking the bartender to fill my cup.
Again. Again. And again. Then, everything goes black.
