Scrutiny

You look around. Sweaty men, crowding around an invisible table. Their shouts and swearing were gibberish. One of the men notice you staring, you look away.You notice the walls, peeling off, threatening to uncover some morbid secret. The ceiling comes next. A fan, rotating meekly was winging like a trapeze artist. It used to be white , but now it has aged and turned the color of coal. The bar has become crowded, men of all shapes and sizes cluster in, yet that man continued to read, not looking up from those pages. You notice his glass is still half full, half empty...