at one of my favorite haunts, after a movie, at an old theatre, in an aging part of the city, i am idling with the color & mood of whiskey in a solid rock glass. see, the whiskey, is just a beautiful, clear liquid under dim light, a coffee so i can sit and be alone in a place where people are trying not to be alone.

a stranger sits besides me, & begins his practiced dance of conversation, so i do what most young, unbruised souls do, in a bar, i give a smile back for his efforts. it's quite late. he names his accomplishments & snarks on some other writer. he is a good looking thirty-something year old, and he goes on and on, and then, i say, that is great. so what're you doing here? and he gives some reason. and then i turn back to my untouched drink, and i ask, as kindly as possible, so what're you fighting about with your girlfriend? and his face falls. he apologizes. i tell him that he'll be okay.