Just another night.

The bar was a smoky, decrepit dive, nestled in the middle of a working class neighborhood. To the north were the train yards, to the west the river. The bulk of the dingy city lay to the east, and just south of this neighborhood bar, were a series of dilapidated, rusting hulks; the former iron works and a series of boarded up factories.
She sat in a booth near the back by herself. The walls were wood paneled, and oozed the smells of the past; Sweat, smoke, whiskey, the yeast and grain of the beer, and the smell of the quiet, sedated desperation of souls attempting to escape this dying town. Layers of smoky tar had settled over the light fixtures eliminating all but a dim, slightly grayish yellow light to escape from them. The booth had once been a sparkly red vinyl with specks of glitter in it, the type often seen at diners and roller rinks years ago. Now it was faded and worn, but occasionally when the chairs were cleared out to dance, and the disco ball was turned on, you could still catch minute glimpses of its former glory. The booth was much like the patrons of this establishment; once they had been bright, shiny, new, firm in places, supple in others 30 years ago, but were now worn, faded, sagging and nearly forgotten.

It was Saturday night; karaoke night. The place was packed and busy, full of people trying to forget the past week or their past in general. Names were called, men, women, mixed groups, and couples all came and went. Singing the songs of their childhood, songs for their spouses and significant others, or songs to just dance and not have to think. Finally, her name was called.
“Sarah is up next, Sarah, to the front”.
She got up from her booth, alone in a sea of strangers and headed to the front. Not a very tall woman, or very big, she tried to push her way through people.
“Is Sarah here?”
She raised her hand and waved. The DJ saw her, and continued to hold the microphone out for her. She finally made it through the last of the people crowded around the booths and the small stage to the side of the bar, and climbed up. The music started.
“It seems like yesterday, but it was long ago…”
Sarah started in to the song. Her quiet, unsure voice straining to be heard over the music and the din and clatter of the bar. As she came to the chorus she gained her confidence, and found strength in the words.
“Against the wind. We were running against the wind. We were young and strong, we were running against the wind.”
The patrons went on with their business. A few glanced up to see if they knew who was singing, but turned away when they saw they didn't. Yet she continued on. Singing only for herself. Growing more and more sure of the words she was singing. A lonely girl, barely a woman, singing her heart out in a dive bar, to a song that was older than she was. Baring her soul to no one in particular. No one cared.
As she finished, the DJ had a tear in his eye.
“That was the most beautiful version of that song I’ve ever heard.”
She smiled with a slightly crooked smile, looked down quickly and said thanks, and vanished into the crowd. No one else even realized the song was over.
“Next up is Jerry. Jerry, are you out there?”