Can I take your order, please?
He looked up. She was standing there, gorgeous. Looking down at him with her friendly cute smile. But he knew what was behind. He always knew what was behind anybody’s mask. Their thoughts entered his mind like if they were his own.
He hated them. He hated them all. Ever since he was a small child he’d known. What they thought when they saw him. He never told anyone. It was enough being the ugly kid, if he weren’t going to be a threat as well. They would hate him even more.
I’ll have a whiskey, he said. Neat, in a wide glass.
Coming right up, sir! She said, turned and walked away. Creep.
The whiskey arrived. God damned he’s ugly! He drank it slowly. Won’t he ever leave? He was used to it, but it still hurt. Alcohol eased the pain, made it easier to bare. Made him care less. He knew it would be back tomorrow, though.
He paid up and left. Walking down the road he heard the voices as always. People with their problems, their issues, their complexes. Little did they know how lucky they were. At least this one’s worse off than I am. Most of them had no idea what it really meant to suffer.
Back in his flat he took his coat off. Walked into the living room, opened a bottle, turned on the TV and drank until he couldn’t hear the thoughts of his neighbours any more.
Drank until he couldn’t even hear his own.