She was very tired that night, tired of everything… her job, her landlord not answering her calls regarding the broken bathtub, the shallow friends, who were only seeking fun and nothing deeper…

So, she kept driving a bit longer that night, until she saw a luminous sign right at the side of the dark street… “At Paul’s”. She decided to stop for a solitary drink in that grim place…

She stopped the car, which switched off sobbing… this way she felt too, like just wanting to explode in a silent sob, and then peace…

And yet, she swallowed that feeling once more, and headed to the entrance door…
She went in, the door welcomed her with a warm, polite, bell sound…

Soft lights, simple décor, and a desert ambience… she was lonely there too, she thought.

Then, she saw him, the bartender, even though he looked like something much more than that: his presence was impotent, dark skin, a theatrical smile, and wise eyes...

He could have been twice her age, and twice as alive as her. He was elegant and silent… He just smiled at her, as if he knew everything about her, and started making her a drink…

“Are you making this for me?” - she asked - “I haven’t ordered anything yet”.

“Oh well”, he said, “I am making this just for you! Here every drink is created only once, every person who walks by that door comes here to find something, and I make something for them, something that contains what I feel for them, sometimes their pain, sometimes their needs… a therapeutic drink if you wish…”

Soon after the drink was ready, she started to sip it on the notes of “In the air tonight”.

Something happened in her: it was like that drink contained all her tears, she saw herself reflected in them and she realised, she no longer needed them.