I wiped with a clean silk a smudge off the glass. Despite all I had done to clean it, the cup would not lose its blemish. An imperfection was not accepted.

  I turned on the faucet and let the water flow own onto the rim edge. This would be my last try before I put this cup away for good.

  The water began to heat up. I poured some dish soap into the rough side of a dark yellow sponge. Pushing with both hands now, I used my wrist to rub back and forth on the blemish. The light reflected off all edges of the glass perfectly, except in the one section of rim where it induced a dark distortion. No one would ever use this cup.

  I threw the cup down in frustration. I contemplated if it would ever be needed, or if it would be fine to finish.

  ‘I will not,’ I decided. It took over an hour to hit the floor and ended in dozens of shards splitting off in controlled directions. They danced on the ground until they circled and seeped into the dark, granite floor. One more cup lost.

  As I stared down, I looked at my reflection. A man glared back at me. I remembered this man—a man I will never be. I could become exactly who I wanted, but then would I really be anything? At what point would I lose myself? Lose myself, and become a reflection, a robot who stares back at itself? At this current moment, I am able to glare back at what I see and deny myself.

  If I was to give in and become who I wanted, I would lose everything but myself.

  I stood up straight. I need to fix my posture. I tightened by tie and fixed my suit. It is now time for stage two. Grabbing the silk cloth from the cup, I began wiping the counter. Any moment now, a visitor could come and ask to be seated at any point of this counter. I needed to prevent any distasteful impressions. Even in the many years I have been serving at this bar, I never once have met the same person twice.

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  There is no bartender in existence who is satisfied despite disappointing their customers. My aim is to make every visitor as comfortable as possible. To serve their every need and request. No one will leave without being satisfied.

  I flashed through all my memories of people walking in. Their faces are blurry to me now, but I remember their feelings, their emotions. How they smiled when I gave them their drinks and fed them their foods. I knew they could sense my dedication, and that made me proud.

  “How may I serve you?”

  The question rung in my head. Despite not being able to remember their answers, I could mimic the exact tone I used every time I prompted the question. Perfected. A willingness to listen. A genuine excitement in my voice, open to hear whatever request any person might have. Not one would hesitate to spill their wish. They responded my sincerity with their desire to convey.

  All I needed was one chance and I could give them everything they wanted. Just one wish to make it come true.

  I smiled.

  Someday, a visitor will come by and stay. Not stop by for a few hours, but hang around for hours and tell me their stories. I will tell them the answers to any questions they have, and serve them till they are not needing anything more. On this day, will I be happy.

  When a person comes and visits for a drink, I am only satisfied to help them. But once they leave, I know the world will still tear them apart. The world is built for destroying desire. I know of this, because of free will. No one is able to escape the desires of others. The world disallows humanity to be happy, except in the expense of other men.

  And only I can solve this.

  I have the power to give those what they want and what they need. All it takes is a wish.

  I poured myself a glass. What bartender pours himself a drink while working? I must be getting old.

  “To another visitor,” I toasted to myself. In a deep breath, the drink fell down my throat. Another tasteless drink—a man with no desire can never feel pleased.

  My eyes rolled to the clock on the wall to the right of the door as I checked the time. It was getting late, and visitors rarely came at this hour. I left from behind the counter and went towards the door.

  I raised my hand to fasten the lock,

  and the door opened with a brass chime.