Exploring the broken, tragic, and beautiful lives of regulars at a bar through the eyes of its anonymous bartender.
A Preview of the Tweets
(since the story happens on twitter)
When the regulars gather, it feels like a play is starting. Improv theatre, perhaps.
Roland orders a whiskey. Suntory. Julia's brand. Roland never orders whiskey. I asked if he was sure.
Tonight starts just like the night before. Some rain, a chill, the falling sun.
Another good night for rum.
Roland is first in. He hangs his jacket and orders his usual. Gin Tonic.
"You sure you don't mean whiskey?" I ask.
"Shut up," he said. I shrugged.
"As long as you're paying," I said.
Julia orders a gin tonic. Roland's drink. She's never ordered gin tonic. I asked if she was sure.
"Kind of feeling in the mood for something different," she said. Winked.
Just when I'm about to close up, a customer.
Dressed like a business man, and yet somehow, clearly, not.
Like a monster wearing a bowtie.
"You seen Julia?" he said.
"Yep," I said."
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