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.”
“Dawn?”
“Nah, fancier.”
“Twilight,” he corrects me as she takes
the first shot.
No comments:
Post a Comment