I meant to post in Freewriters but mistakenly posted in Leofinance.
Zeka sits at the bar, in the front row of the bar. Although there are tables he can choose to sit at, he is alone and therefore it seems better to just be at the forefront and chat with the bartender.
It is not like he has to suffer through it. Probably he gets a tip and that makes it worthwhile at the end.
Photo by Klara Kulikova on Unsplash
Zeka, glass deep, has slumped a bit. His eyes are loosening focus, which may be due to lack of sleep or the booze.
He is not concerned too much because it is the weekend after all.
When he is going through the restraint of deciding to get up and be on his way, a lady shows up and sits beside him.
For a second he does not notice the intruder.
The bartender comes towards them and asks the lady what she would like, and only then does Zeka notice her.
She wants a chat, that is what comes up in his mind.
Because there are seats with no people around.
The bartender pours her a drink. She takes a sip and asks Zeka,
“Hello, nice to meet you.”
Zeka replies, “Nice to meet you too.”
There is a pause.
Then she initiates again.
“How are you doing?”
Zeka is fascinated by how much she is interested in having a conversation with him.
Although he feels he is not in the best shape to have a conversation, he is happy to talk to her. She is the first one here who initiated something.
“I’m fine. How are you doing?”
She replies, “Same, same.”
“I forgot to ask your name.”
Zeka tells her his name and asks for hers as well.
“Leena.”
It is not what he would have thought.
Zeka, on hearing the name, pauses.
She puts down her drink and asks,
“What do you do?”
“Me?”
*“Yes, yes,” *she reiterates.
“I am an investigator.”
She replies back instantly,
“A policeman.”
“Yes, yes.”
“You must be exhausted, investigating.”
“No, no, it’s not like that.”
Zeka, being shy, says,
“What do you do? I forgot to ask.”
She says,
“A writer.”
She blurts it out instantly, as if it was prepared.
“What kind of writer? Do you publish books or have a personal blog?”
Zeka is interested enough to ask.
“I write columns.”
On hearing that, Zeka makes a face, as if betrayed.
She is not an ally, he thinks.
Like everybody else, she wants something.
He carries on, but without giving much of himself to the conversation, not thinking much about it anymore.
2 June 2026, Freewriters Community Daily Writing Prompt Day 3122: not an ally
