He sat at the bar, deciding it would be a good idea to cool his nerves with a scotch. He was certain she didn't see him. He kept looking over his left shoulder toward her table. Why was this the night he decided to go inside? He knew he aged, and not just in his grey hair and wrinkles. Life had not been kind to him. He hasn't been kind to himself. The guilt he felt every day ate away at his very essence. He kept hoping that someday he'd be able to overcome it and truly become a happy person. But that wasn't his life. He would never be able to break through that guilt and become successful in anything. He self-sabotaged every opportunity he ever had. Why should he be entitled to happiness when he robbed her of it so many years ago?
He hoped that she had become successful and happy. She looked it, but you just can't tell sometimes.
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