Andy took his messenger bag off, hung it on the hook under the bar and then had a seat. As he sat and waited to get the bartender’s attention, he noticed Phil across the way drinking a three-fingered dram of something dark.

Seeing this asshole felt par-for-the-course as far as day went. Phil noticed Andy sitting across from him and nodded his head to him, acknowledging him. Andy nodded back.

“What can I get you today?” the bartender asked.

“Ah, just a Guinness, please.”

“You got it.”

Andy looked up at the three screens in his field of view. MMA fighting, commercials, and horse racing. The fuck? Horse racing? Where are we, Donegal?

Discontent lead him to pull his copy of Bag of Bones by Stephen King out of his bag. He had never really been the type to read in a public setting such as this, but given the choices, this was worth a shot.

He started reading and was quickly immersed into the novel. He was surprised at how easily he was able to do so and entertained an idea that this could become a new habit. A new nuance in self-discovery to help break up the monotony of his life.

His newly poured but not yet settled Guinness arrived. He glanced at it and watched the churning foam develop from the body to the head. It reminded him about how he read that fish guts were traditionally used to make Guinness so smooth. That was enough to churn him from his body to his head. Sláinte.

He glanced up towards where he last saw Phil and saw that he wasn’t there and the glass was empty except for a few ice cubes. He supposed that he probably went to the pisser. Just as he was returning to his immersion he heard his full name being slowly pronounced to his right.

“Andy Berman” the voice said.

Andy looked towards the voice and it was Phil. God damn it, it was Phil.

“Hey, Phil. How’s it going?”

“Saw you pulled out that King novel. You a big fan of his?”

“Yeah, I’ve read a fair share,” Andy said dryly.

“Bag of Bones. Don’t think I got that one. I just finished Insomnia. Pet Sematary before that.” Phil continued, “I think Salem’s Lot is my favorite so far.”

“That’s quite a couple of name drops, Phil. I honestly didn’t take you to be the literary type.”

“Well, since my mom passed away I got all her books. She had a ginormous collection of his. One day, I just started reading some of ‘em. You read any of those?”

“Yeah, all of those. I enjoyed them.” Andy was becoming more engaged but remained mindful to who he was talking to. The last time Phil had this much to say to Andy was the night they both nearly got kicked out of McGann’s. Andy was on the verge of confronting Phil about that night when Phil chimed in, “Hey, I really just wanted to talk to you about the other night at McGann’s. Look man, I’m sorry about losing my shit and getting in your face. I guess I’m a little messed up with my ma passing away and stuff. Anne got me appointment with a therapist and all.”

“Yeah, that was a messed up night. I didn’t know your were dealing with that, Phil. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“I just never dealt with anything like this before and I just wanted to say that I am sorry, bro.”

“I appreciate that. I’m sorry too.”

There was silence between them. The discomfort got to Phil first and shifted his attention to Andy’s book. “I don’t think ma had that one.”

“Want to borrow this one? I’ve already read it. This is my second go.”

“Nah, you’re reading it. Maybe after you’re done?”

“You got it.”

Andy grabbed his now settled Guinness and took a sip. He then turned back to Phil and said, “What are ya drinking? It’s on me.”