The newcomer takes a seat next to you. The sets your hackles up, because what the fuck. This place is basically empty. So many options to choose from and he gets right up in your personal space.
Hey buddy, you got a problem?
No problem, he tells you. Just thought he'd come in out of the rain for a spell, and this joint looked as good as any. The buttons on his jacket are highly polished, and his tie is perfectly knotted. His hat is set at a particularly jaunty angle. You approve despite yourself.
Well, don't make a big deal out of it, you tell him. You pull out a cigarette and flip open your matchbook. Empty. Empty, just like your glass. Totally spent, like your cash. Dried up, just like your prospects.
