FAR FROM ERIS • FreenBecky •

ONE

-🎶-

The bar was packed with people that Thursday night. Thursdays were the new Fridays. The truth was, it didn't matter anymore which day you went out in that area because everything was bustling. The lights, the music, the alcohol. The complete surrender of all those people. And among the crowd was Freen, with a bottle of beer in her hand, her hair tied back in a ponytail, and wearing ripped jeans, laughing with her forehead resting on Nam's shoulder, who always made her laugh out loud. This time, she didn't even know why they were laughing anymore.

-Nam, I swear if you don't stop, I'm going to vomit,- Freen said, trying to catch her breath. -I don't know how many of these I've had, but I don't think they're helping.-

-It's because you can't drink. I told you not to order that one. Or the one before,- Nam replied, looking confused. -Well, just don't drink anymore.- Suddenly, Nam's expression turned serious. -I don't want you to leave. What's the point of you leaving anyway?-

Freen was moving to another city the next day, and she had actually ordered that beer – and the one before, and the one before that – to avoid thinking about that information. Because Freen didn't want to leave. In fact, Freen didn't want many things. She didn't want to feel like a failure for not having become a successful writer – Or just one who had something published, at least – and she didn't want to have that job that kept her glued to manuscripts that would be published but would never bear her name on the cover. She didn't want to come home alone again, or worse, with someone who shouldn't have had the last or the penultimate beer, and whom she wouldn't call again. She didn't want to leave the book club she had taken charge of, where several charming septuagenarian ladies had even made themselves a uniform to wear. She didn't want to be separated from her friends, or from Nam. She was the only family she had left. The only one who had been by her side when her father left when she was a child, and her biggest support when her mother passed away four years ago. Nam was much more than a friend.

-Come on, don't be sad. I'll come see you once you settle in,- Nam said.

-I know, Nam. It's just that...- Freen sighed. -Going to another city to do the same thing but feeling more miserable, I don't know where that leaves my ambition, honestly. Besides, things aren't so bad for me here, you know?- Freen pointed to her waist. -Today, Patty gave me her Official Book Club Reader shirt as a farewell gift, so that 'I remember her wherever I go' – her words. After all the fighting that poor woman did to start that club, I abandon them. I have no heart, Nam,- her eyes moistened.

-You should focus on writing, you know,- her friend said, trying to prevent Freen from making a scene over the old lady's shirt. -Now you can take your laptop and sit in unknown places, pretending to be bohemian. You could live the literary experience of solitude in cute and hidden cafés, with completely mismatched chairs and wicker rugs.- Freen raised an eyebrow as she finished her beer. -Don't look at me like that. Sometimes you have to embrace the mood of the tortured artist a bit to get the results of one. If you just go from work to home, from home to the book club, and from the book club to this bar, you won't achieve anything.-

-Yeah... maybe I'll do that. When I arrive, I'll search for 'cafés for failed writers' on the internet,- she left the empty bottle on the bar. -But now, I really am going home. I haven't finished packing yet, and no, don't judge me.-

-Do you need help?-

-I need a miracle,- Freen said as she walked away, waving goodbye. -See you tomorrow for breakfast before I leave.-

Nam nodded as her face disappeared into the crowd, and Freen finally left the bar, receiving a slap of cold air on her face.

It was that time of year when you couldn't tell the end of winter from the beginning of spring, and the temperature was quite pleasant for being out in the late hours of the night. -Climate change- thought, considering turning on the air conditioning if the beers started seeping through her pores during the night. She lived nearby. Just a couple of streets and a bridge over the river separated her favorite bar from her home. So, emboldened by the alcohol and the existential unease that accompanied her, she decided to walk alone through the city streets lost in her thoughts.