The Sandstorm (A Coursera Assignment)

"The sandstorm! Its killing us!" The man with a cowboy hat came into the little bar, sands all over his shoulder. Hes calling himself "us", a strange usage, Liza thought. She was sitting on a highstool, playing with her Tequila glass, her slim feet slowly shaking under the desk. "We want a shot." The man said to the bartender, shyly. His faced was nearly blushed. His gave a quick look at Liza』s feet and soon turned aside. "Which shot?" The bartender asked. "Oh, you know, the shot." A trace of smile slipped over her face. "Give the man a Tequila, and some salt, please. Itll be on me." Liza said. The cowboy looked astonished. His face became totally burned. One can even see the pulse under his muscle. "What, what is it? I, I mean, why do you offer us with, this?" "For fun." Her legs shaked a bit faster underneath. Then she left for the sofa near the door, like shed like to appreciate the view of sandstorm. Outsider the French window, yellowish trees were shaking madly, and every pedestrian was moving like chased by a dinosaur, and trying to hide their mouth and nostrils from the sand. She watched them with a seemly high spirit, which confused the cowboy at the bar.

"It was horrible outside. We have to hide inside, otherwise we would be swallowed by, by God knows what." He was a dumb, the bartender thought, and handed him his Tequila and salt, with no plans to teach him how to use. "You know, when we were at war, no one fear no sandstorm like this, and way beyond." A soldier, she thought, so what? He was going to boast about his honorable war experience? Her father was a soldier, but he never fought a fight. He was just a chef in the army, yet when he came home from Afganistan, he talked all the time how threantening the war was like and how blessed he was to come home alive. It was not because she had little respect for soldier. But, hell, he beat her and her mother! How could she have any love for an alleged soldier, one who seemed to have severe mental problem, at a bar? We couldnt blame her for that, after all.

"We were in Afghanistan." Oh, not again, she thought, and sneaked a peep at him. His face looked just like her father, especially when he took off the cowboy hat and looked puzzled on the Tequila she just bought him. "We were in Afghanistan, you see. And one of our boys, guessing his name was Lorius, was on his mission when he met this sandstorm." "Then? Did he, um, did he…" "No." He stared at the glass, and looked back at the bartender. "Oh, Im sorry. I mean, the war was cruel and, it must be hard for you to lose such a comrade." "No its fine. Were fine. Nobodys hurt, nobody, expect for poor Lorius. You know, the left of us, we live for him." He uttered that word by word. "We live for him." "Uncle cowboy, let me teach you how to drink this." She walked straight to the bar, skirt swaying. "Oh, you』re gonna teach us…no, no, dont bother. We don』t drink alcohol." She froze on the way, embarrased. The storm still hoaring outside the window. The bartender looked at them, his hands still on the glasses he was cleaning, but time was like frozen with her move. "Then why did you…" "Come into this bar, uh?" "Yeah…It is after all, a bar, and theres a cafe around the corner, so if you just want to hide from the sandstorm, why didnt you go there? I mean, Im not saying that youre not welcomed. I just want to know the, um, the reason.」

"You good girl. Youve asked the good question." A mysterious smile crawled onto his face. "It was not me who wanted to drink. It was little Lorius. Remember? We live for him, so we drink for him. Now, show us how to drink this, um, this…" "Tequila, uncle cowboy, this is Tequila, and I bet you two are going to love it."

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