SEVEN YEARS EARLIER
SEVEN YEARS EARLIERI stare at the empty glass of whiskey sitting in front of me. I’m the only person in the bar besides the owner. Some sad-ass country song plays on the jukebox, and when I glance down at my knuckles, I see the broken skin and red beads of blood pooling on the surface. I wipe it on my jeans, numb to everything that went on this evening.
“So are you gonna tell me what happened?” Of course Benny notices. He’s in his late sixties and has run this little hole-in-the-wall since before I was born. My dad used to come here when he was my age. If he were alive, I"m sure he’d say it was the only thing in this town that hasn’t changed.
“No.” I’m not usually a man of many words, and tonight is no different.
He grabs the bottle of Wild Turkey 101 and pours me a
