(Photo prompt courtesy of Etolbagam.com)
She was a rough old girl. Faded memorabilia hung lopsidedly on peeling walls, floorboards were scraped raw. The ancient pool table had a peculiar lean to it and you had to account for the roll away from the far-right pocket. The bar was grimy and the barstools tattered and filthy.
A demolition sign was plastered on the door. Tomorrow.
He peered through the dirty window. It was here they had celebrated graduation with drinking games and too much boot-scooting. It was here he had bet fifty bucks – and lost – to a slip of a girl with a dangerous smile.
Three old codgers sat at the bar, but they were the only ones now.
He pushed open the door. The old familiar smell of stale beer and cigarettes. He smiled.
“Hey Mack! Give us a beer! And one last game.”