The Line

He sat at the bar, taking another slug of his third beer of the evening. His eyes were pasted on a television in front of him and he sighed and slumped down even further in his chair.

The bartender cleaned his counter while serving the other customers. Cleaning may not have even been the right word - it implies that filth was actually removed. He was more of a relocation agent, finding new places for the bar's most consistent feature. He looked up from his task and saw the man's sad face. He thought about making small talk- you know, the way bartenteders always do- but he also looked like a man who wouldn't tip well, so he decided talking to him would probably be a waste of time anyway.

A young man who didn't belong and didn't know it walked in and sat down next to the man. He was clean and in good spirits, and ordered a draft.

"Quite a game, huh?" the man said, being polite. "I caught the beginning of it before I left."

The sad man looked at him with no attempt to make a smile. "I suppose."

"And Walker! What a season he's having! I swear, if there was ever an early NBA draft, its that guy. He's just gotten better and better through college -"

The man started to laugh next to him. The younger man seemed put off. It wasn't the kind of laugh you get when you are joking around with your friends; this was the laugh of a mocker.

"Come on! I have been watching this guy all year. He's gold."

The sad man turned to face him. "You know, I went to high school with that guy?"

"Uh, no. Wait, really? Are you pulling my leg?"

"No."

"Was he a jerk or something? You don't seem to like him very much."

"No, he was very nice. Great guy. Terrific athlete."

"So..."

The sad man sighed, and took another large drink.

"Sophmore year, we were actually going for the same spot on our Varsity team."

"No way! That's incredible!"

"I trained. So long and hard, I trained. I lived for basketball. But when tryouts came... well what can I say? It was close, it was..."

The man had to stop talking. His head drooped. The young man was confused until he saw tears on the sad man's face.

"Do you know what I do now? I'm a nobody. I could have been that. I was good, I was so good. But you know what? He was just a little bit better. I felt broken. I was never the same after that. I tried, I tried so hard... but by senior year, he was still the best. Still the best, by a little bit. I switched positions, I adapted... but it was never enough. He outshined me."

"I am so sorry-"

"The finest razor," the sad man said, wiping his eyes, and draining his drink before slamming it down. "That is what decides life."

"I'm... I'm sorry," the young man sputtered, trying to say something although he truly had nothing to say.

"Don't worry. It doesn't matter," he said, leaving no tip on the counter and grabbing his coat. "Just make sure you're on the right side."