The Aloof Older Man

On a rainy evening, I felt an inexplicable pull toward a bar I had never visited before, so I ventured into the one tucked away in the alley. There were only about five or six people inside, and the counter was right beside where I stood. As I surveyed the interior from the doorway, perhaps blocking the path, someone spoke from behind me. Move.* He then brushed past my shoulder, took a seat in the corner, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.*