Accept the faults

He sat there, in front of the bartender, with his usual order. The bartender knew that wasn’t all. He was regular enough that the bartender knew better. This would be the last one though, he knew when to cut this man off and it was at this point. He wasn’t a good drunk when he came in depressed.

The next glass the bartender set down was water. The drunk was still enough there to know what that meant and still sober enough to appreciate it. The bartender shifted his glasses on his face.

“Did I screw up?”

Of course the bartender didn’t have an answer for that. His friend knew that too. The fact he asked was sign of how far drunk he was. The bartender leaned forward on the counter and fixed him a look.

“I probably did, yeah.”

The bartender waited. The story eventually spilled forth.


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