"You're wishin' too much, baby. You gotta stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone oughta be.”
-

working at a club.

you stand behind the bar, sober as a judge, taking orders from intoxicated people. the music pulsates, you see them dancing. they're in a world of their own. you are, too, keenly observing them. as if the bar, which separates you from the dance floor, is a wall separating you from another dimension. they scream, they laugh, they ask for another drink. you give it to them.