Nighthawk It’s late at night and I just stepped in this bar at the town. Everything seems eerie as people seem downtrodden. As I slide down the bar stool, the smell of freshly brewed coffee permeates the warm air. The couple seated at the bar seems to be whispering, talking about a tragic event. A lonely man sits near me, contemplating on different concerns to which I know nothing about. The humid air adds to the uneasiness felt inside the bar. The dark red colors of the bar exemplify formality, similar to that of a board room. The whole counter top manifests an obsession to keep things sterile and orderly. Perhaps the bartender himself has grown weary after a long day of work.The only sound that would break the silence would be coffee cups being placed on the kitchen sink. The bartender was tired. yet, he was expecting some conversation from the customers. However, no one obliged as each of us wanted to be left alone with our business. It was not the right time for talk as silence fell all over the place. The woman’s perfume was strong, reminding me of decadence in some bars. Perhaps, she wanted to make an impression to her partner. The man wore a business suit that reflected his fine taste. Even his watch showed that he is not an average worker, a lawyer perhaps. As the coffee brewed, I could not wait for a cup of espresso. I needed something to jolt me out of this sad scene. The bright lights of the café are the only ray of hope that I see as far as this moment. The lonely street outside the town is symbolic of the lonely hearts of all the people inside the café.