The Counselor

The Counselor Arriving at a dull inland town called Hamar in Norway, The hotel didn’t serve food, but there was a stall down the road which sold hot-dogs. October, already bitterly cold, streets where swept of life but they where clean ready to receive snow frosty wind blowing from the lake of Hades nearby. While eating, squeezed by a coldness I didn’t know existed, thought hell is not hot; it is Hamar, but there must be a bar somewhere to lift my sprit. There was, a bar that played jazz music loudly to cover for lack of skills, but I didn’t mind I was here for a drink or five and I’m not a musical critic. Dawn, got up shaved and used mouth water as I was driving up to a clinic and train to be a counselor helping people who had alcohol problems. Got the job, looked out of the window…snow. No this was not a job for me, helping rich people getting sober.