Alan L. Winters

LAST CALL

The old man sits at the end of the bar, his 5 o-clock shadow now approaching 2am. From time to time he awakens just long enough to grunt. Half crocked and hoping to attain the other half by 3.

The gentleman in the booth swirls his second glass of brandy in an hour. The bar will never get rich from him. His sad eyes tell a story. This time he swirls his ring.

The young couple in the corner shares a bottle of Champagne and giggle as the bubbles burst just above the goblet’s rim. This time next year they will live as one.

The tender announces last call…
The old man grunts.
Sad eyes swirls his ring.
The young couple giggles.

“Good ni…

The old man grunts.

“Good night my friends. Good night.”