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Dave sat up at the bar at the local pub, Jack beside him. The setting sun fought its way through the grimy windows, picking up the ever-present haze of smoke floating through the air. Half-empty glass beside him, Dave flipped open his wallet and gazed at the photo inside. A petite brunette looked back at him happily, her glee shining out. But her smile was lost on him. He had felt nothing but empty loneliness the day that Alanna had left him for another man. He downed the rest of his glass and glanced over at Jack, who supplied another drink to him in an instant. Jack was a good friend. He was always there when Dave needed him, and he listened. He just sat there quietly as Dave talked, and never judged. Jack was the only friend that truly understood him.
“Why did she leave me?” mumbled Dave. “I loved her…”
Jack had heard this story a thousand times. The years never wearied this tale, and time never seemed to heal Dave’s wounds. Jack knew the story by heart. Dave had come home with an engagement ring in his pocket, ready to ask Alanna to be with him forever. But he came home to Alanna pulling a suitcase through their front door. She was leaving him, she said. There was another man. A thousand questions swirled through his head, wanting to know what he had done wrong. But they never got answered, even five years later. The pain never got any better, unless Jack was with him.
“You’re a real mate, Jack…” Dave muttered. He peered at Jack through his alcohol-addled eyes. Jack game him an understanding smile, and offered to refill his again empty glass. The afternoon wore on, and the grubby sunlight was soon replaced with the inky cold of night.
“Alanna wash the greatesht…” Dave was slurring his words. The photo swimming in from of his eyes was suddenly snatched out of his hands.
“Who is she? Your whore?” The man’s voice sneered. “She must be—no other woman would get with you!”
“Leaveralone!” snarled Dave unsteadily. “Shesh my...sheesh my...”
“Prostitute!” finished the stranger, taking a second look at the photo. “She must give losers like you cheap screws….who else would?” With that, he deliberately tore the photo into pieces, tossing it back in Dave’s face.
“You BASTARD!” He roared, trying to lunge at the man. But all that happened was him tripping over his barstool, and in turn getting asked by the barman to leave. Dave picked himself up shakily, and he and Jack stumbled out of the bar. Dave’s head throbbed with grief as he stumbled in the direction of home. The last photo he had of Alanna, and now it was gone, trampled into the gritty bar carpet. A heaving sob escaped his mouth, and he reached to Jack for comfort. Jack was there, soothing him, helping him go on.
Thudding footsteps sounded behind them, and a rough hand suddenly grabbed Dave by the shoulder. It was the thug from the bar. Though to Dave’s pickled brain, it looked like five men were staring him down. “You hurt ‘Lanna…” Dave shouted, trying in vain to avenge the attack on his love. But his weak punch could not even bruise the thinnest-skinned of people. The man laughed scornfully and shoved him roughly to the cold ground. There was nothing Dave could do to stop himself getting beaten to a pulp. When the thug had done his worst and realised Dave was dead, he turned tail and ran. He was sure no one had seen him, it was a cold night and no one would be out. Even if they had, he would claim self defence. The drunk had thrown the first punch…What else was he supposed to do?
The next morning, Dave’s body was found, broken and battered in the lonely alleyway beside the pub. Everyone put it down to a terrible tragedy. And even in death, Jack was by his side, but he was in much worse shape. All that remained of Jack was broken shards of glass in a puddle of amber liquid, glinting sadly in the morning sunshine.
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