Love Always, Ireland

-3-

I hear every footstep the people above me make; I hear every shower the guy on my left takes, and every time the guy below me sleeps, he snores and I hear it. The walls of our hotel are paper thin, the rooms are freezing, and the desk chair is ridiculously uncomfortable. I feel like I'm getting nothing accomplished. Actually, I know I'm not, and every time it gets quiet, Kristy texts me from across the hall. I can't turn off my phone, because I'm using my playlist.

When the shower starts in the room beside mine, its sole occupant sings again. I pound my head down to my desk, so hard that my pen rolls off of it to the carpeted floor below.

"I just want to effing study!" I inform my empty room.

I have to pick a song for this scene and it needs to be perfect. I hear my phone buzz again and I give up. I slam the binder shut, pick it up with all my notes and pens, and slip on my Toms to leave the security of my room.

The hotel seems empty today. My classmates likely have gone sightseeing while I remain with my full attention lost in my music collection. Not wanting to begin a conversation with complete strangers, I nod my head at a maid and the desk clerk as I hurriedly walk past them and towards the main door of the lobby.

The cold air hits my face as I leave the hotel. I haven't even been around town yet; so, I don't know where I can work from that will be quiet. Up and down the street of multicolored businesses, I look for a library or coffee shop but see nothing. There's no way I'm walking around town by myself.

I'm not getting murdered today, I have too much shit to do.

I turn to go back into the hotel but remember the green dive bar that Kristy and I walked into last week. It was quiet, had little to no people in it, and if it doesn't work, I can always go back to the hotel.

I take the few steps down and walk in, noticing there are definitely more people here than last week, but still few. It's much warmer than my room and I don't hear people singing or snoring, so it will have to do. I throw my binder and notes up on the bar and spread out.

"Can I get a Sprite?" I ask the bartender. He nods happily and immediately pours a can into a clear glass with ice.

I work from this spot for hours as people come and go. I like the atmosphere here more than I thought I would. Everyone knows everyone else by name, and they appear friendly. No one is loud, they just have their discussions and mind their business. It's like the perfect balance of Cheers and Luke's from Gilmore Girls, but with couches. The bartender keeps my glass full and puts snacks in front of me. He must know I'm studying because he doesn't talk much. He's very friendly when he speaks—a local named Deaglan. He's a third-generation owner of the tavern and loves when tourists find him and his little hole-in-the-wall business.

More people fill the room as the day goes on, but still I remain in my spot at the bar. I have one more song to find for this scene, and I'm not leaving until it fits.

"Alright if I sit here?" a male's strong Australian accent asks from beside me.

"Have at it." I don't look up from my notes, knowing the bar is likely filling faster the later it gets. My seat is becoming prime real estate. Perhaps Deaglan's place isn't as much of a dive as I had originally assumed.

He slides himself onto the stool and I continue to go about my work, once again keeping my head down to avoid awkward conversation with a stranger.

Flipping through the pages of the script, I highlight keywords of the character's love story. My plan is to incorporate them into my search somehow, to make the music seem more connected to them and how they feel about each other. Some of my classmates are likely going in a different direction, choosing compositions rather than a lyric-based song, but it's not my style. I enjoy hearing a song behind a scene I've never heard—one that gives me the feels and the need to hunt it down to play on repeat until I'm sick of it.