Norah Kellogg.10 The Ones Among Us... Pouring a generous amount of liqueur. I slid it over, watching its golden brown consistency spin into syrup. Reflecting swirls of light, the glass glistened and shone little light into Neon Lights, a dive bar near a semi-busy town, whose doors were open 24/7. Taking later night shifts, I often worked till 5 pm, having 11 hours of stand-around time, sweeping thin layers of dust on deep stained-brown countertops along with thick jug-sized glasses. Cleaning brought a new gleam of things, claiming my unbuzzled nerves. Releasing a sigh, I began organizing the shelves. Kicking my backpack briefly, its contents skidded across rickety wooden planks. Notecards flew everywhere, and I picked them up two at a time. Scribbles matching unshapen words airly swayed over each pencil mark. Finishing my last year of Communications and still, I couldn’t get everything sorted out. I ruffled my shaggy hair in a curly-loose ponytail. Tangles hid dark swollen circles that bore into rectangular lined whites. My appearance fully matched every stereotype of a college student. Shrugging my shoulders, I ran through my presentation once again. The topic was simple: someone you look up to who has a noticeable status online. A quick Google search was in order. I never bothered myself with things of such a sort. The drama of celebrities overwhelmed me, leaving me with a killer headache. That and the power they held, all that recognition was terrifying. I wasn’t one to be around too many people. So something to that extent seemed like hell to pay. Quite frankly, I had a handful of friends, but with school and all, our time was getting thin. Flipping through my notes, I mumbled each sentence, trying to shove some confidence down my throat, clicking a ball pen. My surroundings stayed inside a little box, glasses and counters around me for comfort. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, looking busy and bothered hopefully they would leave me be. One of my closest friends said it would be a good idea to search for a job. Help with the funds right? It made sense of course, but maybe it was a bad idea? After all, I was the one having to deal with drunken idiots dancing on top of tables. I don’t know but it bothered me. They’d chug drinks down till sunrise, talking to whomever would listen, with fumbling hands and stuttered words. They all acted so freely. I hated people with a passion that drove them to do whatever they wanted. It was annoying even though I could easily tell some asshole to stop when needed. It was the bar’s rules. Can’t change them. But the idea of an hour-long presentation on some stupid celebrity, that might I add, no one in this class cared about was was terrible. I jumped at the sound of a tinkling bell, small in size. “Oh, hello what would you like-” I instantly dropped my pen and reached for the closest glass. “Sir?” He had a brown trench coat tied in a lovely knot and greasy blonde hair settled a little over his shoulders. The air thickened in his presence. Each of our customers flinched as the man scooted next to me. The black leather and silver chairs screeched at each turn. The man sat on one of many stools.
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