CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
A PIECE OF THE PAST
The Old Tavern looks nothing like its name suggests, and honestly, it never really has. Back when Diane and I had just turned eighteen, we used to sneak in here with poorly made fake IDs, convinced we were far more convincing than we actually were. We thought we were so slick, slipping past the door with nervous excitement buzzing through us, only to later discover that the staff had probably known all along and simply did not care enough to stop us. Our parents, however, had cared very much when they eventually found out, and the month-long grounding that followed had been nothing short of brutal.
Now, standing outside it again, I notice how much it has changed and yet somehow stayed exactly the same. The Old Tavern has taken on more of a dive b
