Jacob slides the bag across the table, the hooded figure opposite him peers inside. “Where the hell did you find this?”

Jacob grins sheepishly. “Around.”

The hooded man pulls out a bottle of bourbon whiskey. He pops the cork off and breathes in the sweet smell of honey and oak. “What did you trade.” Ihis voice laced with command.

“Does it matter?” Jacob says defensively. “It’s your birthday, I thought we could celebrate for once.”

The man folds his hood down with a sigh. His ice blue eyes extenuated by the deep wrinkles that carve his face. He frowns, an expression exaggerated by the same deep lines.

“You only turn eighty once. Just enjoy it, would ya?” Jacob grabs the bottle from the old man’s hands and pulls two plastic cups out from the same bag. He pours several shots into each. The amber liquid shines like gold, and both men know it’s worth its weight.

“It’s been ten years since I’ve seen a drop of this stuff.” He brings it to his lips and takes a gulp.

Jacob does the same, letting the whiskey warm his body. He’d think about the payment later. For now, he was determined to live in the moment. He looked over at his great uncle Matthias, who was clearly savoring each sip.

Matthias’s coughed, raspy and rattling. He put his cup down and brings handkerchief to his mouth to stifle the sound. When he’s finished with the fit, blood came away, painting the already rust-stained rag.

It was getting worse. Who knows how much time he had left with the last person left of his family. Jacob needed to take his own advice and just enjoy it.