"Shirley." Fred said her name to himself. Then he looked up at the lights on the roof of the bar and let out a long sigh.

"Pour the wine." He whispered to the bartender, thinking of the glass and Laura.

He felt that he was useless and boring. He felt that he really doesn’t worth to be loved.

He didn't know where Laura was or how unconscious she was. He didn't know if the person on the other end of the line was telling the truth.

He doesn't know anything. He can't do anything. He can only come to the bar to get drunk, looking at the bar owner who...