His beer

I stared at the bubbles of his ice cold beer. The bubbles rose slowly, bumping into each other randomly before they surfaced. My thoughts were just as random, haphazard, too fast for me to evaluate every single thought that surfaced. I felt that he was sharing something important, and I wanted to remember everything he said. I don't know if the emotions came first, or the thoughts. Beneath the exterior, the one that people constructed out of expectations, is a man who is empty, and searching for a reason. He spoke with determination, and a hint of bitterness. It was the kind of conversation where you sat and listened, with a gazillion feelings and thoughts shooting through you, but still you sit composed, and well, just listening. I wish I could say something constructive, but words do fail me. I pray that he would one day find that spark and direction in his life, just like how God found me again=)