We were talking about my childhood when she asked a question, stunning in its bluntness. Continue reading

We were at the bar, talking through the last three days as we set up a card game. Everything and nothing had changed in the days since we’d last imbibed together—a whole lot of talk, and a non-zero amount of action. Continue reading

There’s a bruise on my arm, a lingering reminder of last week’s misadventures. At first, I thought I’d escaped such a wound, but this one was sneaky, waiting to appear until it seemed the danger had passed.

Though the week, it’s shifted shades between yellow, black, and blue, serving as a demented mood ring for brutal times. And yet, somehow, through it all, there hasn’t been a single moment when it hurt. Continue reading

By the time we got to the bar we’d agreed upon, it was only twenty minutes to last call. Continue reading

The music stopped, mid-song, and the opening strains of a different, more classic one began to play as the lights in the bar flicked on. And we high-fived, as though we had accomplished something. Continue reading

We shared a bar stool, she and I. She, sitting facing the bar, ordering a snack and a drink from her buddy tending bar, while I leaned against the back, facing outwards, watching the local stand-up banter with the singer/songwriter-turned-podcaster-turned-failed politician who hosted that portion of the evening. Continue reading

“Do you still love her?” she asked, as we sat a wall away from the bar where I’d taken the subject of the discussion on the night we’d met. Continue reading

My friends have a newborn daughter. I have a new phone. Continue reading

Wednesday night, in a barely-marked bar that predates the speakeasy trend, I told a story about turning 16. Continue reading