He holds the pool cue gingerly between his knees as he chalks it up. There is something profoundly stupid about how he does it that makes me question even his sanity. Behind him on a shelf the bar’s cat naps. It is midnight and we are the only ones left - he refuses to leave until he wins. The barkeep is a friend, he brings me beer and the burger I ordered.
“Come on, guys, it’s almost…” he pauses, “what’s that part after night?”
“I’d call it day.”
He laughs sarcastically, observing intently as I peel the rind off my bacon. I have an aversion and he likes to chew the fat.
“Nah, I mean the bit between.”
“Twilight,” he corrects me as she takes the first shot.