â€œI donâ€™t knowâ€¦ Itâ€™s flattering I guess. More flattering than troubling, to think that when youâ€™re bleeding love, that bleedingâ€™s for meâ€¦â€
How did we meet? Thatâ€™s not really the important bit. Well, I suppose it makes for better reading than the â€œwhereâ€. It was a bar mind you. Nothing classy, nothing fancy. Just a regular bar near home.
It was one of those evenings. You know. Youâ€™re at home with your mind made up. You wonâ€™t go out no matter what. You borrowed a movie earlier so your night is made.
For insurance youâ€™ve bought yourself some vodka. It helps. There was a momentâ€™s hesitance when you were making this purchase because a part of you knows what the vodka does. You wanted so badly to go with something else. Something like, Bond 7. But you didnâ€™t because you remembered what happened the last time.
But thatâ€™s not important. What you want to know is how we met.
Like every other story, it involved a blackout. There was really no point in staying at home so I decided to take a walk. Not too far, coz you never do know what will happen lest you wander too farâ€¦.
Or take things too far, as I did that night.
Asking my pal for the keys to his car because of her. Him handing them over with not a single care in the world.
And then getting screwed.
No, not that wayâ€¦not in the way it was supposed to happen.
There we were, me and her. backseat of the car. About to get it on. Then a light was shone. Then we were asked to come out of the car.
The guy holding the torch held something else in his other hand.
A gun? A crow bar? It doesnâ€™t matter. He hit me. Hit me hard. I blacked out.
When I came to, the car was gone. My friend was yelling at me.
It wasnâ€™t his, he saidâ€¦ truth be told, this story ainâ€™t mine either.