Undrafted

 In rooms with no windows, strange things can happen to a man's mind. It's the only explanation, surely… In a cavernous cellar bar buried deep in the city’s underbelly, with a heavy mix of rain and pressure in the Friday night air, it can warp you beyond all recognisable form. And that's what happened to a man before my very eyes. He lost his shape. He knew everybody but was a friend of no one. The room moved around him as if he were the eye of a storm. But he couldn't be. He lacked the calm of a storm’s eye. His disposition was both rigid and turbulent. I'd seen him through the evening, hopping between the people in the place and the bar. Never very long with the people. Always a long time at the bar, trying to pick up drinks and conversations. Not many conversations, not long ones anyway. Plenty of long drinks. When I found myself next to him at the bar, he claimed to know me. At first, I thought, maybe he did. I've met lots of random people in my time, and I ...