Scene: A bar.

You're new here, aren't you? I don't think I've ever seen your face before. Oh, you're just stopping in for a drink? That's what I said at first. "Just stopping in for a drink." Then another one. And another. And another. Before I knew it, I was as regular a sight around here as that pool table or the dartboard over there. Probably the same story for most of the barflies here.

I'm not bugging you, am I? I tend to ramble on, and the booze doesn't help much. I guess when the drinks are flowing, it just loosens my lips. Speaking of which Hey, Ted, gimmie another! Thanks.

You look kinda young, kid. You old enough to be drinkin' here? Don't worry, I won't tell nobody. Just got a young face? Yeah, I used to have a young face, too. Then realitly hit me smack in the kisser. Knocked the youth right out of my young face.

You wanna talk about reality, huh? Well, lemme get you and me another drink, and I'll tell you all about reality.
Wanna know the truth about life, kid? It's a shit-hole. The commode of the universe! Everybody's rushing to get their business done, and not checking to see if they piss on the seat. Wanna know the worst part? Everybody's got their reason for being in a hurry. We all got something to cling on to, that keeps us hangin' around. For some of us, it's money. Judging by the way you're dressed, I'd say that's your reason. The only thing that keeps me going is the booze. Given the choice between drowning in shit and drowing in alcohol, I'll take the drink any day.

'Course, I didn't always feel this way. I can tell you don't, just from the look on your face. I used to be like you - smiling politely while some drunk in a bar rambles on about the meaning of life. I used to come here once a week, instead of everyday. Yeah, I had a piss-poor job. I was only 27. I still had my whole life ahead of me. The only way to look was up, y'know? I came here to blow off steam. I'd have a few, and watch the drunks, and laugh at 'em, and thank God I wasn't like them. One day was the same as any other, but in a good way. It was a world I didn't care about.

And then one week, I saw her here. Sittin' down at the end of the bar. In that seat right over there. She was like nothing - nobody - I'd ever seen in this dive. She was pretty. Her face, it was it was like one of the ones on those Greek sculptures. Just perfect. Round, and staight, and somehow, bright. Her hair was long, dark, brown as the richest wood in the world. Sculpted as if she really was a sculpture. You'd know if you saw her. And, to top it all off, she had a body to die for.

She knocked me out, almost literally. I was blown away. And I almost let her slip away. I had learned, even in the short time I'd spent on this earth up till then, that more often than not the pretty ones chew you up and spit you out. And, I'll admit, I was nervous. How do you tell a goddess she's drop-dead gorgeous, y'know? I didn't want to hit on her. I can't explain it. I've puzzled it out through some long, sleepless nights. All I can say is that I somehow felt she was better than that. "Are you tired? Because you've been running in my mind all night," wouldn't work with her, but I didn't want it to work. I didn't want to have to trick her, you know?

So I sat there for a while, trying to convince myself that I was thinking of something to say, instead of just staring at my drink because I was reluctant to talk to her. I don't know how long I sat there, eyes glued to my glass.
And then something came over me. It was like some other force was moving my legs for me. Before I knew it, I was standing next to her. She looked up with those gorgeous eyes; it was the first time I'd seen 'em, and they almost knocked me out again. I opened my mouth, and told her the truth. And she accepted that.

She was just as interesting inside as she was outside, if you can believe that. Caring, and funny, and intelligent, fiercely intelligent, like a fire hotter than the sun burned in her brain. You could see it when you looked in those gorgeous eyes. We clicked, like. Like I don't know what. We were inseperable from the first date, Chinese at Lee's down the block from here. I think I truly loved her. No. I don't think. I know. She was the only woman I'd ever loved. I'd told other girls I loved them, but I didn't mean it then.

Believe it or not, I stopped coming here. Ask any one of the louts with dust on their shoulders over there. For three whole months, I didn't set foot in this place. I didn't need to drink to blow off steam - I didn't have any to begin with. I was happy just being around her. But I just well, I couldn't bring myself to tell her that. I - I don't know why. It was like every time I tried to say those three simple words, I couldn't. Like a shadow would fall over my mind. My tongue would get all thick, and my mouth would get dry and I'd start to sweat. I can say it now, Goddammit! "I love you. I love you! I love you! I love you!"

Sorry, Ted. Guess I was getting a little loud. Fill my drink, will ya? I can say it now, kid, but I couldn't then. And that's when it really mattered! We started drifting apart. Slowly, like driftwood in the ocean. Every time she looked at me expectantly, and I would start to panic, I guess. I just couldn't say the words! I wanted to, kid, more than anything in the world. But the words, no matter how much I hoped and how much I tried and how much I prayed, wouldn't come. The rift started growing, and still I said nothing.

Then one night, she said it. "I love you, Alan." She looked at me, and her eyes were the fire was there, but something else was too. Saddness, I guess. It'd been growing in her for weeks, and then it was just about to burst out. I don't even remember what I said. But it sure as hell wasn't, "I love you, Mary"! But the sadness didn't come gushing from those eyes in tears. Just cold acceptance, which was so much worse. If she'd broken out in tears, maybe I could've said it. But she didn't. She just got a grim look on her face and was quiet the rest of the night. That silence hurt more than any name she could've called me.

And the next day, she said what I'd been dreading. And I couldn't even say it then! As she walked toward the door, slow enough, still, to give me time to say it, I just stood there, like an idiot. She opened the door, and looked back. She paused on the threshold, and her eyes were sadder than anything I've ever seen. And she went through that door, and I stood there in silence, and after she shut that door I never saw her again.

And that's when I learned the truth, kid. Eight years ago, I came across a shooting star, who lit up the sky, putting all the others stars to shame. She was brighter than the moon and hotter than the sun. And I was so convinced I couldn't catch her that I didn't even try. Before I knew it, she was over the horizon. Probably brightening someone else's sky. Someone who knows you can catch a shooting star, if you just try.

I guess she's really why I keep coming back here. Some stupid hope that I'll see her again. I don't even know what I'd say. But I don't have to worry. She's not coming back. I don't have to kill myself over the right words, because I'll never say them. Who needs to think when you've got booze to do to thinking for you? Or, at least, dull the pain.

You know, kid, the glasses here are always changing. They get cracked, or they shatter. Some drunk idiot tries to slide a drink, all smooth-like, across the bar, and it breaks when it falls on the floor. Or they get chipped because some buddies are slamming them on the tables too hard. Sometimes even Ted breaks one. He's always buying new glasses. But the booze never changes. Same booze I've been drinking every day for eight years. And somehow, that comforts me.