The Nightly Encounter

1. The Unwelcome Inquiry

I rested myself against the rough wooden counter and said, “Hello Mr. If you don’t mind, may I get a glass of your strongest beer?” The person didn’t look my way, making me wonder if someone was really there. I stretched my neck to spy over the counter, only to confirm there was a huge man behind who resembled an upgraded version of The Rock, stacking bottles of booze into a crate.

The dimly lit tavern seemed deserted except for the imposing figure working silently. His back muscles rippled under his tight shirt as he expertly arranged bottles, a skill that clashed with his rough appearance. The clinking of glass echoed through the empty space, creating an eerie atmosphere that set my nerves on edge.

I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease as I observed him, his lack of response adding to the mystery of the situation. Was he intentionally ignoring me, or was there some other reason for his silence? The air was thick with tension, and I found myself holding my breath, waiting for any sign that he acknowledged my presence.

As I continued to watch, a sense of urgency crept over me. The need for a drink to ease my troubled mind grew stronger with each passing moment. I knew I had to break the silence and get his attention, even if it meant risking his ire.

Scene of a man in a dimly lit tavern

2. The Definitive Response

I inquired again, this time raising my voice, “Hello Mr. Did you not hear me?” The man paused his task and turned towards me, his expression stern. “I did,” he stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ve closed for the night. The sign on the entrance door is clear.”

His words hung heavy in the air, final and unwavering. The implication was clear – there would be no service tonight, no reprieve from the solitude that enveloped the tavern. I felt a sense of resignation settle over me, realizing the futility of my request.

As I studied his face, I noticed a glint of defiance in his eyes, a silent warning against pushing further. He exuded an air of authority, a silent command that brooked no disobedience. It was clear that his decision was final, and any attempt to sway him would be met with resistance.

“I understand,” I replied, my voice subdued. With a nod of acknowledgment, I turned away, knowing that tonight was not the night for a drink. The sound of his continued work filled the space behind me, a reminder of my unfulfilled desire and the harsh reality of the closed doors before me.

Tavern worker denies drink request leaving protagonist disappointed

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