Бесплатный фрагмент - Free drinks for your souls

The "Sports World" font used on the cover was created by Sergiy S. Tkachenko.

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This establishment welcomes every visitor.

1. OPEN 24/7

His grief had reached its peak. He felt every cold drop of rain trickling down his skin as his hands reluctantly smoothed the waterlogged earth over the grave of his young wife and two small children, buried beneath the crown of an old oak tree. The plague had irrevocably claimed their lives, as well as those of thousands of other residents in the nearby settlements of eastern France.

Thirty-three-year-old Louis Morel was left utterly alone. Everything he once possessed now lay in the earth before his bowed knees. Unceasing tears fell to the ground, lost in the puddles of rainwater. His craftsman’s hands, hardened with calluses, were now buried beneath the thick black soil, which had worked its way under his nails and coated his fingers and palms.

Heartbroken, Louis ignored the heavy rain and continued to kneel before the graves of Mona, Antoine, and Mathilde. His soiled shirt and trousers were soaked to the bone, and the drops that struck his body flew off, creating a fine spray.

It seemed only moments ago he was rocking his beloved son and daughter to sleep, telling them stories before bed. He still held memories of Antoine and Mathilde trying to help their mother bake pies, getting so covered in flour that their little faces were entirely masked by it. He would return after work and be greeted warmly by Mona. Every morning, he woke up and the first thing he saw was Mona. He fell asleep late each night, and the last sight he took in before closing his eyes was Mona. She had always been an exemplary homemaker and a loving mother. But most importantly, he found in her something he couldn’t find in any other woman: a mutual attraction so powerful that their two hearts and two souls always felt indivisible. He and his wife were like two constantly attracting magnets, regardless of distance or time. But now, that magnetic bond was broken. All that remained was the single magnet – the lone survivor – which could no longer attract anything as strongly as the three lost ones.

Louis remained at the grave for nearly two hours before his tear ducts finally ran dry. By then, the rain had ceased. The sky, however, still held its grim countenance, created by the thick, gray clouds.

He rose from his knees, turned, and, shuffling his feet, began to move away from the grave, leaving the shovel – the tool he had forced himself to use to dig the hole – lying nearby. He would never forget these horrific moments. He would remember every shovel-full of that earth he had been forced to cast aside for all eternity.

Ignoring the deep puddles on the trail, Louis walked straight through them. He likewise paid no mind to the carriages that rolled past. The skin on his face was severely red from the protracted crying. He walked along the roadside like a man in a daze, utterly consumed by grief. He moved in this state for over an hour, reaching the fork at the edge of the woods. His village lay beyond the forest, with the right path winding around to the village and the left leading toward the town. The route was the furthest thing from his mind. Louis didn’t stop to question which path was more convenient, quicker, or safer. The village was beyond the woods. He chose not to veer onto the path, continuing instead to walk straight through the forest. The last time he’d walked this way was when he was twelve and playing hide-and-seek with friends after a trip to gather berries or mushrooms. Since then, he had only returned to these parts for firewood, never crossing the woods completely, but merely reaching the central section where the most mature and straightest tree trunks were located.

He walked past an old elm and, gradually leaving the forest edge behind, plunged into its deepest thickets, where sunlight was barely noticeable even on the clearest of days. The forest floor was strewn with fallen leaves, which would soon disappear completely, leaving the trees to reveal their cold, autumnal trunks and branches.

Louis moved forward without shifting his gaze. Soon, his attention was drawn by a strange glimmer. The light grew brighter as Louis moved deeper into the dense woods. After a moment, several more points of light appeared.

What could shine so brightly in the deep woods? That question, though not immediately, finally surfaced in Louis’s half-dead consciousness. His legs remained sluggish, yet they moved a fraction faster, while his arms continued to hang motionless.

Soon, an open, rather spacious clearing materialized before Louis. It was as if someone had deliberately cut down the trees to clear the area.

Just last week, this place was full of giant pine trees – Louis thought. For the first time in an entire week, his mind was occupied by something other than his desperately ill wife and children.

A two-story structure stood in the middle of the clearing. It was built of wood, its walls covered in a dull, muted timber shade. Its open shutters were painted red. The first floor was completely encircled by a spacious outdoor patio, which was furnished with chairs and tables. Empty glass bottles littered some of the tables, beside the slumped forms of snoring, passed-out patrons.

The curiosity that arose was so sudden, yet it intensified with every passing second. Louis was baffled as to how a building he had no prior knowledge of could suddenly appear here.

He approached the facade. Above the entrance was a sign, which read “WELCOME” at the top, and just below it, in large letters, the establishment’s name: “FREE DRINKS FOR YOUR SOULS.” Louis climbed the wooden steps, his boots caked with heavy mud. With a tentative motion, he slowly pushed the right-hand side of the swing doors open and took a few hesitant, timid steps inside.

It was quiet and empty. Only one other person was in the room besides Louis. This man was mopping the floor, having inverted all the chairs onto the tabletops. Noticing the new arrival, the stranger stopped scrubbing and addressed the guest:

— Good evening.

Louis took a moment to look around. The stranger stood still, his eyes patiently watching Louis, who remained silent for a long time before finally uttering:

— Good… evening.

The stranger looked about forty. He was of average height, broad-shouldered, with bright, light-blue eyes and a closely cropped haircut. Every single hair on his head was gray, which was highly unusual for a man of his age. Yet, it did not make him look old.

He gestured to Louis:

— Right this way – the stranger pointed toward the far end of the room where the bar counter stood.

Not understanding anything or dwelling on details, Louis blindly followed the man in the apron. Beneath the apron, he wore a black vest over a white shirt. The stranger removed his apron, then lifted the hinged section of the bar counter and stepped behind it.

— What can I get for you?

Louis remained as silent as a fish. His eyes stared blankly ahead, like glass.

— Have a seat – the man said, pointing to one of the stools in front of the counter.

Louis slowly sat down, then noticed how badly he had tracked dirt onto the gleaming, freshly mopped floor.

Reading the client’s gaze, the stranger quickly offered reassurance:

— Don’t worry about it. Cleanliness is the least of your concerns right now. Besides, you’re not the first to leave tracks on my floor. So…

Louis blinked and, in a slightly more animated tone, cut the bartender off:

— What do you mean?

— Excuse me?

Louis eyed the bartender suspiciously.

— You said I shouldn’t be worried about cleanliness. What exactly did you mean by that?

— Well-l-l-l… – the bartender looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. – It’s just… – He searched for the right words for a moment, then abruptly continued, looking away to the side – … It’s dirty outside, so there’s no point in paying attention to the dirt when you can’t avoid it.

The bartender then brightened up and repeated the question:

— So, what would you like to drink?

— I… I don’t have any money on me.

— First time joining us?

— Yes – Louis replied in a timid voice.

— Then the first one’s on the house.

Thoughts of his family loss flooded his mind again. He answered in a broken tone:

— Give me the strongest thing you have.

— One moment – the bartender said cheerfully and with a satisfied smile, holding up his index finger.

The bartender began arranging the bottles from the back bar onto his workspace. He placed a small glass in front of him, into which he began pouring a medley of various liquors in different proportions.

While the bartender worked his magic on the cocktail, Louis looked around. Suspicion was etched onto his face, yet his intrigued mind could not shake the sheer surprise of the scene laid out before him in what should have been the middle of a dense forest. He didn’t understand any of it. Only recently, this spot had been a tangled mess of trees.

— How long has your establishment been operating? – Louis asked.

The bartender looked at him with a smirk and replied:

— You are asking the wrong question.

— Which one should I ask?

— You should be interested not in “when” we opened, but for “whom.”

Finally, the bartender gave the liquid a slight swirl against the transparent walls of the glass, mixing the ingredients a little, and placed the clear vessel in front of Louis, saying in a lively tone:

— Here you go.

Louis still regarded the whole situation with suspicion. The most suspicious thing of all was the fluid resting at the bottom of the glass — a mix of God knows what. He examined the contents of the tumbler. It was a cocktail of a light golden hue. With some reluctance, he took a tiny sip that went down very hard. Louis coughed and asked:

— What do you call this beverage?

The bartender, actively polishing glasses until they gleamed, replied:

— “Hell of a Ride.”

Louis confirmed the bartender’s words:

— The taste certainly lives up to the name.

The bartender chuckled.

— It’s the strongest thing I can fix up. Just as you requested.

Still coughing, Louis suddenly remembered:

— Oh, excuse me. What should I call you?

— Call me Albert, Louis.

Louis looked at the bartender in surprise.

— How do you know my name?

— It simply suits you perfectly.

Ignoring the comment, Louis continued his questioning:

— Tell me, Albert, is it always this deserted in here?

— I wouldn’t say it’s deserted. After all, there are at least two of us here. Whether a room is empty or full depends not on the number of its occupants, but rather on how alive they appear. Sometimes there’s far more life in a single person than in an entire crowd.

Louis stared blankly into the glass and, bracing himself, took another sip, once again experiencing that incredibly bold, burning aftertaste.

— What’s on the second floor? – Louis asked, his face still grimacing from the bitterness in his mouth.

— The rooms. Our establishment is both a bar and a hotel.

— So that means… all the patrons are probably up in their rooms now.

Albert smiled and shrugged. He continued to polish glasses without end.

Louis kept drinking until he had completely drained the glass.

— Excuse me, Albert?

— Yes?

— Could I have another drink like that? I could bring the money back later. My home isn’t far from here.

— Well, – the bartender drawled, – I never deny a client such a request. After all, we can’t foresee everything, especially when we might need money. Sometimes, life throws us a curveball. Wouldn’t you agree.

— Precisely – Louis answered quite affirmatively. But his voice sounded surprisingly robust. In that moment, a strange blend of serenity and a spiteful resentment toward the whole world settled in his soul. The latter feeling, however, was gradually receding. For a second, he had almost forgotten about his deceased children and wife. Now he remembered them again. Yet, for some reason, he didn’t feel that sharp, bitter grief, as if everything had happened too long ago to mourn it. And this felt nothing like intoxication. He had never experienced a feeling where all his pain abruptly ceased to torment his soul so completely. This was strange, because Louis had never been known for his emotional callousness.

Even if you drank a whole barrel of wine, the effect would be far weaker than just one glass of this… “Hell of a Ride” – Louis thought.

He finished three more glasses of the alcoholic concoction. The first was named “Flight to the Stars,” the second “On the Path to Ecstasy,” and the third “Living Blood.”

— You’ve clearly traveled a long way – Albert remarked politely after the fourth glass was drained of its last drop.

Louis nodded several times, his movements jerky, as if something were keeping him from forming even a single w… wo… sound.

— Come this way. You need rest. I’ll show you to a room.

The bartender courteously led Louis to the staircase and escorted him to a vacant room on the second floor.

2. WELCOME

Louis woke up to a noise coming from downstairs. His first conscious thoughts immediately returned to his family. The day began with soul-crushing grief. He felt the urge to cry again, but something held him back.

He left his room and descended the stairs to the first floor.

The bar was packed with patrons. There wasn’t a single table available. Louis looked around, bewildered by how such a crowd could possibly fit inside the establishment. The place was so crowded, you couldn’t swing a cat. Judging by their appearance, he realized the patrons were not local. It was difficult to believe they hailed from neighboring villages or nearby towns. Most of them were dressed in a manner that was utterly anachronistic for the current times, and many spoke in unfamiliar languages and strange dialects, often using words that had long fallen out of use. It soon became clear that most of them weren’t French at all, and their strong accents suggested a different mother tongue. What was also striking was the mix of clientele: representatives of the working classes – blacksmiths, grocers, fishermen, carpenters, butchers, and other common folk – mingled with members of the upper echelons – noblemen, merchants, associates of aristocratic families, and even those who looked like the boyars or patricians of the distant past.

This was a completely different establishment now. It no longer seemed to Louis like the cozy, quiet spot it had been yesterday. The atmosphere in the bar unsettled him deeply. He wanted to get out of the place as fast as possible, and if he ever returned, it would be solely to repay the bartender his debt. The bar caused him intense discomfort, so strong that it actually made him forget his loss. How could such diverse people gather in one spot, sitting side-by-side at the same table and having heart-to-heart talks over a drink? The rich keep company with the rich, the poor with the poor. It had always been this way, and what Louis witnessed, any normal person would deem unnatural and wrong. It was against the established norms of society. Yet, in some inexplicable way, these individuals coexisted quite harmoniously within the confines of the room, and it seemed neither side was in any hurry to leave the building or to distance themselves from members of the other class.

In the village where Louis lived, there were no rich people, and they were not regarded with respect. Every villager viewed wealth as the result of enterprises devoid of decency and fairness, fueled solely by selfishness and greed.

Be that as it may, he decided he should return home as soon as possible.

— Um… – Louis hesitated, approaching the counter and squeezing between two patrons – Albert?

— Yes?

— Thank you for yesterday. If you don’t mind, I’ll head home and bring the money back this evening.

— Oh, certainly.

The room was loud. Everyone was engaged in some kind of conversation. At a corner table, four people were taking turns playing backgammon with an elimination format. A couple of tables over, a group was preoccupied with seeking answers to the mysteries of the universe, the existence of a certain karmic balance for misdeeds, the nature of human freedom, where the line between the forbidden and the permissible lies, and other philosophical topics. Among the rest were those drowning their sorrows in the cheapest liquor; some were diligently reading; and at the foot of the stairs, a sudden urge struck a couple of moderately sober and very brave customers to settle a score – not through idle chatter, but exclusively with a cross-eyed, bourbon-fueled fistfight. There were also those throwing dice, where the loser had to drink a hundred grams from a personal bottle standing near the shot glass, and the winner was the one whose bottle retained the most liquid.

A heavy stench of cognac, wine, vodka, whiskey, beer, absinthe, rum, and much more, which the patrons were rapidly guzzling down, permeated the entire bar. This establishment looked like a bottomless realm of liquor.

Near the exit, a mustachioed German with a weighty gut materialized in Louis’s path. He reeked strongly of beer, especially when he let loose a powerful belch just as he pushed the door open.

No matter how diverse all the patrons were, they were all united by one common trait: they drank constantly. Most of them did so until sober reason left their minds for a while, and then would once again submit to the same execution the next day.

Louis stepped outside, descended the stairs, and headed into the forest, moving away from the building’s facade in the direction of his village.

He walked barely a hundred meters before a silhouette began to take shape before his eyes. As he drew closer, he recognized the outlines of the “FREE DRINKS FOR YOUR SOULS” establishment.

I didn’t turn off the path – Louis thought.

He walked around the building and headed in the same direction again.

Five minutes passed, and the exact same bar materialized in front of him. He continued to wander the forest like this for about half an hour, constantly finding himself facing the bar.

For a moment, Louis wondered if he was doing something wrong and decided to approach two bearded, reeking patrons with impressive beer bellies sitting on the steps of the entrance staircase. They were still quite sober – or at least, they appeared to be.

Louis leaned toward two gentlemen wearing shirts stained with what looked like either mud or soot, and asked:

— Gentlemen, could you assist me? I left the bar and walked straight west twice now, but for some reason, I keep returning here. Do you know which direction I need to take to find the trail?

The two pot-bellied, awkward strangers responded only with loud laughter. They nearly split their plump sides, as if someone had just told them a hilarious joke.

Louis took their reaction as a personal slight, but decided not to address it directly. He felt they were simply from a different culture than his own.

He approached a woman of about thirty-five standing by the railing, dressed in a severe crimson gown, as if preparing for a masquerade ball.

— Madam, excuse me. Could I trouble you for some assistance?

— Certainly.

— Do you know how to get to the main road? Because I’m trying to…

Louis didn’t have time to finish his sentence before the seemingly cultured lady replied in a sharp tone:

— If you intend to mock someone, at least have the decency not to choose a woman.

Are you all insane here? What in the world is this madhouse!? – Louis thought.

Louis hastily went back inside. Albert would surely answer his question. He might be the only one here who still had his wits about him.

He approached the bar counter and called out:

— Albert?

The bartender turned his polite gaze upon him.

— Ah, Louis. Already?

— Albert, tell me, why…

He didn’t get a chance to finish speaking before the bartender handed him a sheet of paper with some notations. It listed the names of the drinks Louis had consumed the day before, with a number of days written opposite each name. A line was drawn at the bottom, and beneath it was the final figure: 3 days.

— What is this? – Louis asked, completely bewildered.

— That’s your credit, Louis – the bartender replied airily. – You will only be able to leave here once you pay off your debt to the establishment.

— But I told you I was just going home and would bring the money back by this evening.

— No, no – Albert murmured, leaning toward Louis. – I’m afraid you haven’t quite grasped the situation. Our patrons do not depart the premises until their debt to the establishment is fully settled. The cost of each drink is measured in days. The price of what you drank yesterday is one day per glass. Consequently, in three days, you will no longer owe the establishment anything and will be free to leave these walls – unless, of course, you choose to purchase another drink.

— What kind of utter nonsense is this? – Louis demanded, clearly annoyed.

— It would look like nonsense if I had told you from the very start that you wouldn’t be able to leave, and that all roads would still lead you back here, no matter where you went. As it is, you’ve discovered the truth for yourself.

After a moment of thought and silence, Louis spoke in a restrained tone, his face holding a stony expression:

— What did you put in my drink yesterday?

— Monsieur Morel, – Albert began to explain, leaning his elbows on the bar counter, while the patrons sitting on opposite sides of Louis stared at him with dead eyes, never taking them off their drinks, – nobody is slipping anything to anybody here. There is no place for deceit or cheating in this establishment. You are of sound mind, and you are not dreaming. What has happened is absolute reality, and over the next three days, you will be forced to believe in it, whether you wish to or not. So, welcome to our establishment.

With those words, Albert resumed polishing the glasses.

The feeling that everyone was mocking him here enraged Louis, and he bolted out of the bar. He ran off with all his might, past the fallen leaves and the tall tree trunks. And again, the same thing happened. Barely perceiving the silhouette of the bar beginning to emerge before his eyes, he immediately changed direction, but his destination remained the same every single time. This was the thirteenth time.

He raced back inside, snatched a beer-filled glass from the nearest table, and hurled it straight at the bartender. The glass flew directly through Albert’s carefree face and shattered against the back shelves, breaking a couple of glass bottles.

Now Louis truly felt as though he were in hell.

Welcome to the “FREE DRINKS FOR YOUR SOULS” bar. Who knows? Perhaps the people in this place really had sold their souls for a shot of excellent liquor?

Louis was overwhelmed by a sense of profound powerlessness and, in desperation, dropped like a stone to his knees, burying his face in his hand.

3. STUPID DILEMMA

Fighting the weakness in his legs, Louis pushed his back off the pine tree where he had been sitting for five hours. All that time, his mind had been forced to listen to the drunken voices emanating from the damned hole-in-the-wall, packed with dozens of mindless drunks. Nothing interested them but liquor. They had all drunk themselves into such a state that soon, nothing would remain in their appearance or behavior that could even remotely resemble a human being.

Louis was reluctantly heading back to… His steps faltered near the terrace. The lady from whom Louis had received a sharp reply earlier was still standing there. He approached her again, but this time, he had completely different questions on his mind.

— Excuse me.

— Yes?

After a long pause, Louis said what he believed was necessary to ensure this middle-aged woman wouldn’t refuse to speak with him:

— I want to ask for your forgiveness if I offended you in any way. I… I was…

— No. It is I who should apologize to you.

Louis was taken aback by this response.

The stranger continued:

— I should have immediately realized that this is your first day here.

— By the way, my name is Louis.

The lady extended her hand, adorned with a pearl bracelet.

— Justine.

Louis kissed her hand.

— Justine, would you mind if I spoke with you about what is going on here?

— Not at all. Finding a sober interlocutor here is a great rarity. So I would be delighted to have your company.

Louis spent a long time thinking about where to begin. Leaning against the railing, just as Justine was, he began to ask:

— Who’s the bartender?

— He serves the patrons – Justine replied with a faint smile.

— No, no. What is he…

Stuttering, Louis continued after a few seconds:

— …it’s just, you see, in a fit of anger I threw a glass at him, and it passed right through him. I swear. I saw it with my own eyes.

— I believe you. You’re not the first person to hurl a glass at Albert. But everyone who attempts it is immediately terrified when they witness all these mystical tricks.

— Alright. And where is he from?

— Nobody knows that. Just as no one knows where this bar is actually located.

— What do you mean? – Louis asked, surprised. – Aren’t we in France?

— Well, you and I are French. I assume Albert is also, well, French to some extent, and speaks the same language to all the clients so that, over time, all the patrons begin to understand one another. And in that sense, we are lucky. But there are many here who are from other lands. And they have never been to France. They, too, stumbled upon this establishment in some deserted place late one evening, and the next morning, they had already become residents of this establishment — an establishment that does not stay in one place. There are Italians, Spaniards, Portuguese, Greeks, Dutch, Flemings, Germans, Scandinavians, and Persians. There is no shortage of tenants from all corners of the world.

Without delay, Louis asked his next question:

— I noticed that no one is ordering food. Everyone is drinking, but no one is eating. What is the reason?

— That’s another peculiarity of the bar. Albert’s establishment is quite enigmatic. There is something here that relieves a person of hunger and illness. You can drink as much as you like, and you won’t experience any trouble from it whatsoever. No one here even suffers from a hangover in the morning.

Now Louis was asking questions indiscriminately, one after another.

— All the drinks here are paid for, and they increase… um…

— Your credit – Justine supplied.

— Yes, my credit. Is that true?

— Yes.

— But if that deprives them of the opportunity to leave, why do they keep drinking? Don’t they really want to see their homes as soon as possible?

— You will soon learn something about this place – Justine replied. – And then, perhaps, you might also want to increase your debt to the establishment.

— But I have no reason to.

— Well, if only because for some, this place eventually turns into a true paradise. You can drink as much as you want and stay here for an eternity. No one will judge you for being drunk from morning till night.

— And you? You clearly don’t intend to stay here, do you? And that’s why you don’t drink. Is that correct?

— Perhaps. Although, I still don’t know what I want – Justine replied, sighing heavily.

— And how did you find yourself here?

— That day, my husband and I traveled to our estate near Paris. A few years earlier, we had lost our only child. – Justine continued, her voice trembling slightly: – My boy was only eight. I couldn’t bring myself to have another child because I was terrified we would lose him too. Because of this, my husband grew to hate me and started cheating. He was living it up, dragging one woman after another into bed. – Justine uttered these words with palpable anger. – In short, he behaved like a cur who, the moment he sees a female, instantly rushes to mount her. The day we arrived at our manor, I went to the stables. I didn’t even make it past the threshold. He was right there on the hay, fucking the maid, who was groaning like a street whore. – She then looked at Louis. – He despised me so much that he didn’t even hesitate to sleep with the staff. That was the final straw. Hatred was consuming me from the inside. I walked with no destination in mind. I walked for perhaps two hours, no less. I came out onto a hill where I had never been before. The bar was standing there. Albert was extremely polite.

— And how much did you owe when you learned the truth?

An unsettling, sharp laugh escaped Justine.

— The funniest thing is that I’ve never drunk anything but vintage, aged wine. I drank one of the most expensive wines all evening, thinking how I’d return home, pack my things, and leave that scoundrel. The wine was so costly that my credit ballooned to fifty-two days in just a couple of hours. And when I realized there was no escaping, I started drinking to sink into oblivion and stop thinking about it. But that only made things worse. The credit grew with every glass. I ended up owing the establishment six hundred and thirty-two days.

— And how many days are left? – Louis asked cautiously.

— I haven’t checked with Albert in a long time, but somewhere around a couple of hundred or so.

After a brief pause, Justine asked:

— And what about you, dear Louis?

He detailed the bitter loss that preceded his arrival at the bar. Having unburdened himself of everything, he felt a certain lightness and serenity fill his chest. The feeling of sorrow noticeably subsided simply by pouring out his soul.

— Oh, Louis, I am so sorry. Please accept my deepest condolences.

Thus, he befriended a very pleasant and sociable Frenchwoman who had been a resident of the bar for eighteen months.

Louis was distraught. He didn’t want to speak to anyone and sequestered himself in his room. He simply waited for the third day to end, for the sun to drop below the horizon, so he could leave the walls of the mysterious establishment.

Time dragged on. When a person is in a state of anticipation, not a second escapes their notice. At times, time seems to mock a person, and patience is startling in its cruelty, refusing to part with its captive and sneeringly waiting for that specific moment to arrive.

Louis stood by the window, counting the moments until the small orange spot in the distance would disappear from view. Gradually, the waiting became unbearably tedious for him. It is difficult to wait when you realize how every second evaporates and every moment passes like an endless eternity.

The solar disk was in no hurry to dip below the horizon. Louis lay down on the soft bed and fell asleep. When he awoke, it was completely dark outside, and the bar was deserted. He went downstairs and headed toward the exit, bypassing the bar counter.

Albert was wiping the glasses, scrutinizing their transparency every couple of seconds. He called out to Louis, who was passing right in front of him:

— Louis?

He timidly turned to face the bartender.

— Allow me to speak with you about something before you leave. It won’t take long.

— Yes, of course – Louis uttered softly.

— Take a seat – Albert said, indicating a stool in front of the counter.

He draped the snow-white towel over his shoulder, rested his hands on the edges of the bar, and addressed Louis:

— Before you choose to depart, I want you to know what you may need most right now. I’m sure Justine has told you a good deal about what happens here. But I want you to know the main thing. Those three days you spent here were not taken from you. Out there, in the external world, those three days truly passed. But life here comes to a standstill. You haven’t aged at all during this time. Time holds no sway over people in my establishment, and it pauses for those who wish to spend a day, a month, or a year here. Nothing could be worse than the loss of your wife and children. Do not ask me how I know all of this. Simply listen. You will now return home, you will wake with a pain in your chest, and you will fall asleep with it. And the days allotted to you will melt away. Your soul is overflowing with grief. It is utter sorrow. But this sorrow is too powerful. And this feeling will not allow you to return to the world you inhabited before tragedy engulfed your home. Understand this clearly, Louis…

Albert continued, filling a small glass with the contents of a nearby bottle:

— …this establishment is not a prison, but a place where time stands still. Among the patrons here are the rich and the poor, believers and atheists, the lucky and the unfortunate, the daring and the cowardly, pacifists and militarists, the generous and the greedy. Everyone has gathered here. If you stay here for a while, you can get to know this crowd, and perhaps they can change your perspective on life. Believe me, this entire rabble possesses such a wealth of life experience that your conception of the world will seem meager to you, and your life will feel like time you squandered. Furthermore, you will be in no hurry to leave, allowing you to thoroughly contemplate all your pressing concerns.

Albert placed the full glass in front of Louis and stated:

— I wish to grant you time, so that you may properly process your loss.