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"You have to find it. No one else can find it for you."
–Bjorn Borg
The only source of information he had to go by was a picture. A black and white photograph that did not seem at all to be recent. The girl in the picture was attractive with freckles and what he could gather to be a redhead. Einar was busy examining the photograph once again. It was a bit frayed at the edges thanks to its constant travel. He had He kept it close on his person at all times. He'd never know if she just might mysteriously just pop up into his life. Even if she did...what then? Einar pondered this thought as he sat in the bar of a random pub that he had forgotten the name of. The smells of booze, body odour and other scents drifted into his sensitive nostrils. It wasn't the cleanest or most pleasant of establishments but it had what and he needed and that was a good stiff drink. He had asked around previously if anyone knew her. Her face anyway. He didn't even have a name to put to the face. Maybe the Romany girl had swindled him after all. It was a dismal thought and Einar put it to rest since the last thing he needed was negativity.
"I've come this far. I can't give up now," the lad mumbled to himself under his breath. He tended to carry out one-sided conversations with himself when he was either tired or drunk. At the moment he was both. Green eyes were half-lidded and he tipped the bartender before he got to his feet and took one last drink from his whiskey bottle before he placed the picture into the inside of his jacket pocket and started towards the door. His steps were slow and slightly off balance as was expected from someone who had consumed nearly an entire bottle of whiskey. At least he wasn't a complete lightweight. He snorted out a laugh at his own thought and the sound he made only made him laugh harder as he made his way further down the road. He wasn't sure how he somehow made it home in one piece in the middle of the night to his dismal one bedroom apartment in the West End. It took some effort to find his keys and when he did finding the right one and unlocking the door was an even bigger chore. The seemingly ancient wooden barrier gave way and Einar stumbled on in closing the door behind him. The keys were placed on the coffee table as well as the picture of the elusive redhead. Einar plopped onto his back as he lay on the couch. Not bothering to even get out of his street clothes. The whiskey numbed his whirling thoughts and frustration for the time being. However, when he would awaken the next day all of it would be there waiting for him like an old friend. That, and a rather nasty hangover.
"You have to find it. No one else can find it for you."
–Bjorn Borg
The only source of information he had to go by was a picture. A black and white photograph that did not seem at all to be recent. The girl in the picture was attractive with freckles and what he could gather to be a redhead. Einar was busy examining the photograph once again. It was a bit frayed at the edges thanks to its constant travel. He had He kept it close on his person at all times. He'd never know if she just might mysteriously just pop up into his life. Even if she did...what then? Einar pondered this thought as he sat in the bar of a random pub that he had forgotten the name of. The smells of booze, body odour and other scents drifted into his sensitive nostrils. It wasn't the cleanest or most pleasant of establishments but it had what and he needed and that was a good stiff drink. He had asked around previously if anyone knew her. Her face anyway. He didn't even have a name to put to the face. Maybe the Romany girl had swindled him after all. It was a dismal thought and Einar put it to rest since the last thing he needed was negativity.
"I've come this far. I can't give up now," the lad mumbled to himself under his breath. He tended to carry out one-sided conversations with himself when he was either tired or drunk. At the moment he was both. Green eyes were half-lidded and he tipped the bartender before he got to his feet and took one last drink from his whiskey bottle before he placed the picture into the inside of his jacket pocket and started towards the door. His steps were slow and slightly off balance as was expected from someone who had consumed nearly an entire bottle of whiskey. At least he wasn't a complete lightweight. He snorted out a laugh at his own thought and the sound he made only made him laugh harder as he made his way further down the road. He wasn't sure how he somehow made it home in one piece in the middle of the night to his dismal one bedroom apartment in the West End. It took some effort to find his keys and when he did finding the right one and unlocking the door was an even bigger chore. The seemingly ancient wooden barrier gave way and Einar stumbled on in closing the door behind him. The keys were placed on the coffee table as well as the picture of the elusive redhead. Einar plopped onto his back as he lay on the couch. Not bothering to even get out of his street clothes. The whiskey numbed his whirling thoughts and frustration for the time being. However, when he would awaken the next day all of it would be there waiting for him like an old friend. That, and a rather nasty hangover.