than i can identify.
“wow,” he says before i can.
“delicious…” i say, welcoming the warm rush of alcohol that follows.
“do you think we’re the only ones on a date?” he asks and i look around us.
“i think they’re on a date,” i point to a young man and woman at the bar who are standing together but looking in opposite directions.
“whiskey. whiskey and coke. or just whiskey,” he smiles and that seems to soften his whole face. he has half-moon wrinkles in his cheeks and despite myself i think about how kind his eyes look when he smiles.
she’s already talking about the next drink. that has to be a good sign.
“what 