Newark Blues
It was smoky in the bar. It was smoky and dirty and full of blue collar Jersey folk. Davis only came to Newark to feel like crap. It was full of crap so a little of Davis crap couldn't hurt it. It was a long and painfully frustrating drive but it gave him time to think and it was after he got his thoughts out that he put them together.
He took a swig of his beer and contemplated his situation. He liked Tru. She was sweet, intelligent, and mysterious. She was like the tennis ball that he found in this guy's stomach. Not that Tru was a tennis ball or dead or anything. She was bright, like the yellow of the tennis ball. And mysterious because he couldn't figure out how she got there or why she was there. It was only recently that he got her to admit that she was there for a reason like the tennis ball. The tennis ball was put there to kill that guy. Davis furrowed his brow and thought that maybe that wasn't the right metaphor for Tru.
He looked at the beer bottle while he got back to his train. Blue. Made in Canada. Davis knew that he had a snowball's chance in hell getting to be anything but friends with her. He wasn't delusional, optimistic but not delusional. Girls like that don't fall for guys like him. King of Queens and According to Jim be damned. That didn't happen in real life. Tru and Him getting together could only happen on some shitty Fox show.