Every night a man sits alone in the Orion corner bar. Navy blue suit, tie undone, just a hint of evening shadow on his chin. I know this because I’ve drawn him 355 times. I’ve taken an interest in him over any of the other regulars because only I remember him. If I were an ordinary guy this wouldn’t mean anything, but I don’t remember in the traditional way. My brain’s broken, doesn’t make new memories like it should. So I draw.
This one man. He shows up in my sketchbook more than anyone else. I once asked Tracey, who I’ve drawn 275 times, who he was. I figured the bartender might keep an eye on things. She said she didn’t know, had never seen him before that day. My drawings say otherwise. In fact on the first day I drew her they were talking. I can see it in the book. I showed her but she just laughed and looked at me funny. ‘Maybe that was someone else?’ she said. Maybe.
I don’t know what made me draw him the first time. I figure there must be a reason. I don’t draw everyone I see. Just the ones I’ve drawn before, and the important ones. Like Tracy and the other bartenders. Those that seem out of place here. The ones I need to remember. I never wrote down why I started, I just did.
He’s not here today, but I still drew him. He’s too important to forget. The man in the navy blue suit, tie undone, just a hint of evening shadow on his chin. There’s something special about him. I have to keep drawing him. Even when he’s not here.
Every night a man sits alone in the Orion corner bar. Navy blue suit, tie undone, just a hint of evening shadow on his chin. I know this because I’ve drawn him 356 times.