Every Inch of Space
Sometimes we just need a bit of space
“I wanted more space. I needed it. Cramped up and crowded, feeling like my head was going to explode, I had to get more space. The thought — just the simple thought — of all those people bustling around as though they have these rich, full lives and places to be, it made me sick.
“I didn’t want to be someone. I never wanted to be famous or to have money. I didn’t even care if people liked me. I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted more space, you know?”
A gruffer, older man in a matching gray jumpsuit nodded along to Jack’s story. He raised his cup and downed the thick liquor from it. Jack did the same. “Another round!” the older man called.
The bartender, a younger woman named Amy, begrudgingly obliged. She poured the dark purple liquid into the men’s empty cups. Poofs of steam rose quietly into the air as the liquid hit the bottom of the metal cups. She didn’t smile or seem to take any interest in her customers. She just poured the drinks.
“I think I might’ve gotten more space than I bargained for,” Jack said.
“Gimme a break,” Amy muttered perhaps a bit louder than she intended, or maybe she wanted Jack to hear her.