CAMPUS OF CRYPTS
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You open your surly bloodshot eyes. The otherwise blaring bar room din is dampened by your drunken state of being. You tilt the whisky glass to and fro, gently stirring the bitter cocktail betwixt your fingers. You lean forward slightly, your broad shoulders looming over the greasy counter top as you ponder how exactly you got yourself in this situation.
Being twenty three years of age, most of the friends you came into college with had already graduated at least two years ago. Even those few you managed to pick up since then have already moved on in life since the last semester, leaving you stuck in the middle of nowhere in some God forsaken college town all by yourself. Halfway through the beginning of the first semester, you have long given up on finding new friends to replace those who left you behind. You are sick and tired of expending so much effort only to feel deserted come the end of May. You have switched your major several times by now, shifting back and forth from the various art concentrations, unable to stick with the same one for more than two semesters in a row.
This feeling of isolation and abandonment is only heightened due to the fact that you are surrounded by a mostly empty town. Being fall break, most of the students had gone home to their families a few days ago. Not wanting to be constantly reminded of your inability to decide what it is you exactly want to do in life, you decided to opt out of returning to your parents.
The stool creaks loudly beneath you as a stale, murky scent finds it way up your nostrils.
>Hey Bub, you want a refill on that?
The bartender hobbles over into your dark, dank corner of the bar, motioning to your near-empty glass.
>>You know… I have a name.
You manage to gurgle under your breath.
>Oh yeah? And what might that be?