Streaks of grease were amplified on the high positioned basement like windows as the sun began to set. He shifted somewhat on the stool as he took refuge in the darkness of strangers while the strength the beverages seemed to quiet the mania in his mind. From an outsider’s analysis he would’ve been perceived as already visibly disoriented as he entered the bar but there was a stagnant energy that seemed to soothe him with each drink washing away the past. Threads of cigarette smoke rose parallel to the steel pole that seemingly offered solace in exchange for neatly tucked dollar bills, often used to cover the nights expense of cigarettes and liquor. Penny was the nights headliner. She had been stunningly beautiful in her earlier years – a trophy wife of sorts – enjoying more lavish accommodations than her present life allotted for. The later years had left her somewhat weathered, yet the fifty-something divorced mother of two had a keen sense of both her surroundings and the patrons who frequented the establishment, turning her attention to Ben like a mother bear sensing the innate danger surrounding a cub, and he was becoming even more aware of her individual attention. She was a woman twice his age and furthest from his tendencies, yet the pull towards her was terrifying in the best way possible. Structure was the permanent principle in his relationship with Sarah. It was stable and safe and now it was gone. He had nothing to lose and he wasn’t even sure if he cared. The thin threads of smoke had become a thick haze in the room and his cautious rebellion had advanced itself into belligerence. Penny had tended to his wounds first, offering him her lit cigarette as she wiped the blood from the side of his face.