Marc walked with a slight limp in his left leg. A reminder of his past. He thoughtfully and carefully avoided the puddles that dwelled on the street as he made his way through the swollen city to his destination. The puddles of water reflected the kaleidoscope of neon lights located on the shops enticing and daring people to enter them. He enjoyed it and there weren't many things he enjoyed anymore. The feeling of the rain against his skin and the cold air reinvigorating his pores as he traversed the city. On the sides of the road stood young people holding signs luring bystanders with their chants and slang. Marc just kept walking and soon enough he had reached his target.
The old sign had hung in its lopsided position for the four years that Marc had served there and had been said to hang so awkwardly for even longer, so long that it had become a staple for the little pub. He pushed the main doors open allowing the heat to escape the establishment. The smell of the oak, the sound of the crowd and the view of the bar was all Marc knew and it was what he loved. Proceeding past the stage on which multiple women and men had performed upon he made his way to the back room. Here he hung his aged jacked and prepared himself for the shift. Looking in the mirror he said to himself, "just like every other time, look good, serve appropriately and just relax, be friendly."
Marc opened the door and approached the counter. Placing his tools used to impress and serve, he was ready. As the night went on, he entertained and served his audience to a pedigree to which most bartenders could not reach. The crowd were amazed by the skill he displayed. Shaking and mixing the drinks preforming the most delicate manoeuvres and making the most exquisite alcoholic potions. All served with a smile and a usually small laugh. But it's what he knew. Occasionally, Marc would listen to the jazz played in the background of the pub but tonight, things had been different. It was her, standing there looking all beautiful. It reminded him of someone. Someone who once meant something to him. Why he took the pills. She approached the bar and ordered a 'Scotch on the Rocks'. Marc thought to himself, "Why would a pretty thing like you order a drink like this? Surely something this strong must be for a special occasion."
He pulled the whisky stoned out the fridge and placed them into the small whisky glass. He pulled out an old bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and poured. She looked at him with bright hazel eyes in a way which he hadn't been appreciated before. He felt different. She spoke first with a gentle tone, "Thanks love, really needed this. Oh by the way, the names Lena." He thought for a minute remembering every syllable she spoke. It was so soft and careful as if she had picked her word choice with the upmost care. After pondering he reciprocated, "No problem Lena, the name is Marc, Marc Islands." She smiled at the name. A song lyric came into his mind. 'Look for the girl with the broken smile.'