Think back. 

What’s the biggest risk you ever took in life?

I wish you and I were sitting in a dimly lit bar right now so I could hear your answer. 

I bet it’s a killer story. 

The jukebox on autoplay at half volume, providing, in certain moments, the perfect soundtrack to your tales of adventure. 

Man, I would soak it up. 

The way you tell it. 

What you reveal and what you conceal. 

Trust takes time. 

I’ve got a little, how ‘bout you?

“Barkeep! Two more, please.”

Does this end in heartbreak? 

Was it pure fate? 

Did you have a fall back?

Were you pushing your luck?


I was twenty-three. 

My “golden year.”

A clean canvas. 

And a vague promise. 

“Move to Chicago and I’ll give you two weeks every month.”

Hope he makes good on it. 

Only met him once, but he seems pretty honest. 

If it fits in my trunk I won’t need too big a place.

Four hundred a month with a view of the city. 

Latino gangs roaming the streets, but no interest in me.

Walking distance to the original Maxwell St.

Sunday morning strolling with two forties of OE. 

One for drinking and one for listening. 

(Hand it over and get a good christening.)

Well, it’s getting dark out. 

I guess they’ll be expecting us. 

Thanks for the story. 

Drinks are on me. 

Oh, no way! 

Can you believe this song is playing?

Has to be fate. 

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