They taunted him. The beautiful women at the bar.
They circled, fluttering their darkened eyelashes, flipping their spicy smelling hair, stretching their painted lips into smiles over hungry white teeth. They were looking for something, someone, to eat. They were starving, he could tell. Starving for affection or attention or one night of warmth.
They swarmed around different men, sampling, tasting, trying all until each honed in on the one that fit their needs.
But never him.
They didn’t even seem to notice him. He sat at the bar, alone. A mere observer of this nightly biological phenomenon.