Demtesticliz
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- Posted: Sat, 11 Feb 2012 04:31:47 +0000
John stepped into the familiar scene, through the familiar French Doors - Heh... my French Doors, if you wanted to get technical about it. Custom made French Doors by an Italian boy. Go figure - and looked around the familiar bar, with a nostalgic smile plastered on his face.
He stood in the doorway, taking it all in. It smells different. Newer. Although somehow the heavy a** bartop got moved from there to here; that boggles me mind. A slow, deliberate stroll through the building revealed that everything was the same from the old bar, down to the stains on the walls and the a** print on his stool. But it smelled new, still.
He'd get used to it. He missed his friends.
In his hand, slightly crumpled from being carried, was a piece of paper. He held it up and called to no one in particular, "I'm allowed here; I'm on the White List!
"...It's because I'm white, isn't it?"
He was still softly chuckling as he sat back down in the stool that knew him so well.
He stood in the doorway, taking it all in. It smells different. Newer. Although somehow the heavy a** bartop got moved from there to here; that boggles me mind. A slow, deliberate stroll through the building revealed that everything was the same from the old bar, down to the stains on the walls and the a** print on his stool. But it smelled new, still.
He'd get used to it. He missed his friends.
In his hand, slightly crumpled from being carried, was a piece of paper. He held it up and called to no one in particular, "I'm allowed here; I'm on the White List!
"...It's because I'm white, isn't it?"
He was still softly chuckling as he sat back down in the stool that knew him so well.
