Out of all the dives in all the towns, he had to walk into mine. At first glance the perfectly tailored three piece pinstripe suit made me think business man, not distraught husband. My bar was on the wrong side of town, the wrong side of humanity, but the right side for someone needing help but had no place left to go. Not all my customers were inhuman, but most of them were. The cliché was when someone obviously not regular clientele walked in the bar suddenly quieted. Most were here to drink away something, their humanity, their divorce, their addictions, not much was heard over the blaring antique bubble jukebox. It had been broken and overly loud for months, no one seemed to care much. If backroom deals or rather corner booth deals were being made, one would have to shout over it. The jukebox, loaded with 80s power ballads, a surprising request from the customers, seemed to keep everything calm. What customers I had were hunched over drinks of various concoctions for the...
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