Late at night, I was walking in the city... I'm probably walking up at the 50-odd streets and
Broadway when I walked up to a small bar that looked like a treehouse. All
wooden walls and floors unpainted. All I see is a bar in this small treehouse. I saw a bartender, and ordered a few drinks. The bartender served a few random drinks, and one of them was a
screwdriver. This time, it tasted good unlike the slop I had on my birthday. As a reminder... no more
triple sec. The bartender is closing up shop, and he said he can pay for it by putting money in the register. He didn't tell how much I owe. I was alone, the lights are almost out, and I left the place.
One night later, I went to the same treehouse again only to find out the bar is closed and the treehouse grew in size for a Japanese restaurant. I asked a guy behind a counter where is the bartender. The guy behind the counter said "he's out tonight."
I still owe this guy money.