22 “What? Oh, um, I’ll have a double whiskey on the rocks,” I stammered, trying to collect my thoughts. “You got it, coming right up.” I turned back to the Dealer, and found him still watching me with that same look on his face, it was like he hadn’t even moved a muscle. I tried to swallow my growing anger and feign as much civility as I could muster, but I knew it wasn’t much. “I don’t think you understand, mister,” I began slowly, subconsciously clenching my hand around the phone I had set down. “My wife died a year ago. I was the one who found her body. I had to bury her. She’s gone.” “Still, you’d like to see her again, wouldn’t you?” he answered, taking a slow sip of the drink the bartender had placed in front of him. “I’m sorry, I don’t think you understand—” “Answer the question, friend,” he interrupted in an icy tone, setting his glass down on the counter with a sudden bang that made me jump in my seat. Startled, I looked back at him and saw something dark in his eyes that prompted me to answer before I even realized I was doing it. “Yes, yes of course I would. I’d give anything just to have another day with her but… she’s beyond me now.” Wordlessly, the bartender set my drink down and I nodded my thanks to him before the Dealer said another word. I took a sip, feeling the cool liquid burn as it went down, and it soothed my mind for a moment. This was what I really needed. This was the kind of distraction I was looking for when I came in, not some twisted conversation with some unobservant prick. “You’d do… anything?” the Dealer asked slowly, and that was the last straw. Something in me snapped and my vision swam as I whirled around to stare into that infuriating face
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