In My Place

Where it all began, the Foothills Hospital watches over the neighborhood of Kensington, in Calgary.

In my place, in my place
Were lines that I couldn't change
And I was lost, oh yeah, oh yeah

-- Coldplay

Well now, history certainly has a way of biting me in the ass, now doesn't it. Seven years ago, to the day, I sat in a bar, just like I did tonight. Like some kind of vicious reminder of the stupid things I did in my past, I sat, alone as usual, the two after work drinkers who always take my seat whenever they are there, arguing over a last drink, just like they always do. I couldn't help but overhear their philosophy, "If Crown was a Buick, then Jack is a Vette. I don't know how you can drink that shit." They argued, swaying over their cell phones placed on the bar, finishing their third double whiskey and soda's, each round announced as the last. They had women at home to get to, of which they probably resented. I stared at my bottle.