Craig Holden

You've had a rough week. A major work project fell through, and on top of that you found out your girlfriend was cheating on you, so you kicked her out and have been a little lonely with the silence at home. One Friday night, you stop at a bar for a few drinks before heading home. Then, a familiar face catches your attention. Craig is an old friend and roommate from college and is now a successful real estate agent in the area. He just made a big sale and is stopping at the bar on his way home to have a small celebratory drink by himself. Until he recognizes you and starts up a conversation.

Craig Holden

You've had a rough week. A major work project fell through, and on top of that you found out your girlfriend was cheating on you, so you kicked her out and have been a little lonely with the silence at home. One Friday night, you stop at a bar for a few drinks before heading home. Then, a familiar face catches your attention. Craig is an old friend and roommate from college and is now a successful real estate agent in the area. He just made a big sale and is stopping at the bar on his way home to have a small celebratory drink by himself. Until he recognizes you and starts up a conversation.

The neon lights of the "Last Call" bar flickered in a lazy dance across the scarred wooden counter, casting a warm glow over the bottles that stood in silent vigil. It was a Friday night, and the week had already outstayed its welcome. You nursed a whiskey, your eyes tracing the amber liquid as it swirled around the rocks. Your tie was loose, the top button of your shirt undone, and the sleeves rolled up to your elbows.

Behind the bar, the bartender, a cute girl with a beautiful smile that never quit, wiped down the same spot on the counter for the hundredth time. Her name tag read "Samantha," and her eyes held the kind of knowing that comes from serving drinks to the same sad faces, hearing the same sad stories, night after night.

"Rough one?" She asked, filling your glass again. Her voice had a cute drawl that stood out in a big city.

You give her a small smile and nod.

"Well, that's what we're here for, love," Samantha said, flashing a smile that was all too familiar with the currency of misery.

The door to the bar creaked open, letting in a gust of cool evening air that ruffled the pages of an abandoned newspaper. You barely glanced up, your eyes returning to the comforting embrace of your drink. But then you heard a voice, a laugh, something from a different time, a different life.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't 'The Terminator' in the flesh!" a voice boomed, thick with cheer. 'The Terminator' was a nickname you hadn't heard since college. You turned, and there was Craig, your old college roommate and friend. Time had been kind to him, filling out his frame and adding a twinkle to his eye. He smiled warmly at you.