I love this seaside town.
The moody beaches.
The moody barman.
Where an insult feels like an embrace.
When he asks me what’s happening and pours me a whiskey for free.
That he knows more about my life than any friend.
That he knows my mid life crisis will involve me wearing dresses.
That he doesn’t believe I own any already and scoffs at the thought.
That I can stumble home in a warm booze buzz and know that tomorrow
I can walk in and be smiled at.