Steely willed and glassy eyed, Romy settled the rocks glass onto the bar and gathered up his change.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” The bartender asked.
“Gotta be. If I drink myself into it any more I’ll be too drunk to drive.”
“You’re already too drunk to drive.” The bartender countered with a grin, as he lifted his own tumbler of Jameson’s from beneath the bar, tipping it toward Romy in a salute of camaraderie.
“To people in glass houses.”
Romy chuckled. “Lemme get outta here while I still got the stones.”
“To stones then!” The bartender raised the tumbler to his lips and took a long pull.
A guy in a Best Buys polo wearing a nameplate that introduced him as ‘Troy’ took up residence on Romy’s newly abandoned perch.
“Troy, m’ boy!” The bartender greeted him warmly with a smile befitting that of an old friend.
“How goes it?”
“You don’t wanna know.” Troy retorted glumly, with a defeated shake of the head.
“All that matters here, Troy m’ boy, is that you wanna tell me.”
This little vignette is my response to the photo prompt provided this week on Crimson’s Creative Challenge.