shells & whisky

I’m early. They’re running late. The peanut shells have already formed a small pile in front of me, as if by themselves. I have not yet thrown any down. Its unlike me. Here, I usually begin dropping the shells on the floor almost immediately. Its like a sign that yes, I am here; or I have settled in. I must be careful, they get eaten at amazing speeds. Even faster than the drinks on happy hours. Mine has just arrived.
The guy tells me they have been to Bangkok, the entire staff of these bars on Emerald Hill. They were taken on a trip, partied hard, drank lots. It shows, he looks exhausted. But that’s great, isn’t it? That they were taken out, and the bars were all shut for a couple of days. I did not know that all these places were owned by the same person.
The whisky is tasty. And generous, as always. Later, maybe, a classic margherita pizza awaits- with that thin, thin crust and flavourful tomatoes. I have a feeling this pile will look embarrassingly big soon. Maybe I will slow down, or maybe I will scatter them all over the floor.

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