The Hunt for Higgs’ Bos’n: XII, for #smalltales

The sun had set long past but Roy’s joint lived in perpetual twilight. The d├ęcor looked like it’d benefit from a night out in a storm, but the atmosphere was comfortable enough if you didn’t mind the stench of suspicious eyes on you. There were booths – I made it a professional courtesy to stay out of them. Roy’s was rest, not work.

“You look tired, man,” Roy growled as he served my third top-up. “The candle burns the brightest burns the shortest. And you’re burning so very, very bright.”

“Folks discerning?”

Roy tipped his head, looked towards a booth.

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The Hunt for Higgs’ Bos’n: XII, for #smalltales

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