George looked at his cards, looked up across the table, and back at the cards. He bit his lip. Finally he asked, "Does a straight beat a flush?"

Edison tried not to smile. His partner looked like a twenty-something hipster, but sometimes acted a lot younger. Point one: George had blown off his friends, who were going to a club to pretend to listen to droning electronica, to hang out and play cards. Point two: He wanted to play poker, just like his father. Point three: They did this almost every month, and George still couldn't remember how to play.

Cleve Garfield was considered a regular at Pops Bar, but his attendance had become more frequent over the past couple of weeks. Instead of his usual Tuesday and Thursday brew to help unwind, he’d been in almost every day. He was still a fairly light drinker, but he’d picked up smoking and looked like hell. Luke knew that he came for the companionship. It was one of the few places where he was accepted, a place where people actually saw him, a place where he could connect with the living instead of the dead.

He appeared especially ragged this Thursday evening, and was already three drinks over his usual when he told Luke to get him another one

Luke gave the bar a couple of swipes then leaned over on his elbows.

“All right, Cleve. Spill it.”