​TIPSY

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Fortunately, the night was gentle to him.

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The warm light was gentle, the bar and the crowd were noisy but gentle, and the wooden decoration and the reflection of the glass encircled the tiredness of his travel, maybe because of the alcohol, or maybe because of his own imagination of the beautiful world at night; but all in all, the drink that took just the right amount of time emits a light that is enough to make him lose his mind.

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Slowly, the only sound between the crowds is his solitary humming, perhaps with a touch of cheerfulness as he quietly stomps along to the beat. Uki's squinting eyes are blurred, but he doesn't want to think too much in an unfamiliar city, he has deliberately shut down all contact with the outside world and is a wanderer in the true sense of this word.

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The swirling of ice cubes at the bar was interspersed with the beautiful finishing touches to the drinks, the bartender had the good sense not to ask any questions but simply raised one of his eyebrows to indicate that there was an empty seat at the bar when he offered the glass to him.

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It is true, the cherry on the plate is a little bit too sour.

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But it's a good reminder that everything stops at the moment when the egg white is freshly whipped, the sweetness faintly tasted in the floating foam, the end of the alcohol gently flickered into consciousness - so he opens up with strangers passing by, who are not exactly kind enough to take a seat just to hear that little twist of life in vague. And then, in unison, they raised their glasses and laughed and offered him another drink.

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"Let's have another one, on me."

"Because I like your story."

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It is a smoke of illusion, with real and unbelievable romance, in the heart of the infinitely close and infinitely far away, the fear is concealed, and in the end, he can even blame everything on the glass of wine he is holding in his hand. The sound of boots on the floor thinned out and he eventually woke up with a brand new pitcher of water and a bill full of numbers by his side.

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A bill is a little too unromantic, he thought.

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Should I say it was the cost of a lucid dream, or would it be better to say it was just a short memory of the trip - while thinking about it, Uki heard a staff member remind him that it was time to leave, and shaking himself up, he was first knocked back into reality by the high chair.

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“Oh, well.”, he murmured, “it was unromantic.”

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Paying the bill and coming back to reality were synonymous, and just as he was signing the credit card bill he suddenly sighed for the first time tonight - and it should have been the last time - but who cares.

 

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"To be honest, I think it's better to tell you as a bartender."

"I hope you don't feel alarmed that someone has recorded all your stories and that they are not malicious."

"After all, even I was quite enthralled."

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Then, on his way back, he’ll go to the shop and buy the last ticket for the dream .