Two hours until close. Smells of sweat, cigarettes and cheap cologne permeate the air. My shyness has increased in this drunken haze. Furiously I contend with thoughts of paranoia in my head as mad scribbling in a small notebook proceeds. The faces of strangers turn into gross caricatures of humanity’s ills. Stumbling through the doors for some fresh air, I pass jesters and hide in the long swirl of a cigarette. I am the Orc in the realm of Fairies and Elves. Closing time as the night envelopes in its cool, tight blanket. Home once more, the effects wear off with only memories of cowardly shyness remaining.