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Personal Narrative Essay: The Monotony Of Our Life

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They took-up a booth at the rear of the lounge. Evan carefully selecting the table because of its proximity to the bar’s rear exit that spilled out into the far side of the bowling alley. As they entered, the bartender had been busy washing wine glasses in a basin tucked away under the bar. He looked up at Evan and Angela while they seated themselves and said, “There’s no waitress on duty, so if you folks would like anything just let me know.” “Two coffees,” replied Evan, and then he looked down at Liam. “And a milk for the kid if you got it.” “Chocolate,” Liam demanded. “Chocolate milk,” Evan called back to the bartender. “Yeah, I should be able handle that,” the bartender responded. “We usually keep milk on hand for when people order…show more content…
Find anything of value that someone would want returned? Come privy to information that other people might not want people finding out about?” “No. My life could not be more anymore unimaginative. It’s just me and Liam every day, same routine, same schedule. The monotony of our lives is practically stifling. And I certainly didn’t need any more problems after the mess you’d made of it.” Evan just remained silent, his compunction unabashed. The old man at the bar suddenly began coughing which worked well at breaking up the awkward moment between Evan and Angela. The old man’s hack quickly escalated into a gag where he brought up what sounded like a decent amount of phlegm, which he then deposited into a handkerchief. Evan glanced at him briefly, and then shifted his eyes back to Angela. The bartender arrived with their drinks and then asked if he could get them anything else, to which Angela said, “No, thank you. This will be fine for now.” The bartender then gave a perfunctory head nod and left for back behind the bar where he could wait on a heavily tattooed man who had come in and stood holding a twenty at the bar’s far…show more content…
“It’s been ever since I walked out on you, leaving you with nothing and your life in shambles. I wanted to walk away never to think about you again, but I couldn’t. I don’t know what it is about you that I can’t get away from, you’re like some kind of drug.” The old man started back up again, this time even worse than before. Evan glanced over at him having become irritated that his conversation with Angela having been interrupted. “You alright there, pops?” Evan asked. “That cough sounds pretty bad.” The old man continued to gag eventually bring something up that he also deposited into the handkerchief. “I’ll be fine,” he said sounding shaky. “I just can hardly breathe with the stench of that angel you got with you.” “Oh, it’s Angela,” Angela said speaking up. “And I’m sorry if my perfume is bothering you?” “No, Angel, it’s your soul that bothers me.” Angela was left taken aback by the old man’s comment and had quickly become speechless, her eyes searching Evan’s for an answer to the response she had gotten from the old man over the question she had asked. Evan looked at her, then took to staring down the old man after having become rigid over seeing Angela’s face turn
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