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The H&H held about as much excitement as it did on any other Monday night, when I arrived there after a cold and wet day at work. Even the pool table stood abandoned, the cues secured like a spiked fence along the far wall. Hell, I could count the evening’s occupants using the digits of one hand.
Joe leaned over the bar, glaring, like he could intimidate his customers into buying more rounds just to give him something to do. Unusually, the barstools in front of him were empty.
Some guy, who was possibly mid-thirties but looked closer to ninety, swayed on a low stool near the dartboard, like he was thinking about playing a game he didn’t have the energy for. His hands nursed his pint glass between his knees, his head dipped as though in prayer to a sacred life source. I should’ve proba
