He went to the bar sometimes straight after work. There was a new brewery in town. He touched his bristles. coming in thick on the way there. Driving. Listening to the local radio station covering the news at 5 o clock. It was ready by a volunteer from the community rather than a professional radio host. It was a different person each day of the week.
Marc liked that. It reminded him of the early 18th century. When
Benjamin Franklin
was just a kid, apprenticing under this older brother's print shop. They had published their own newspaper as regular tradesmen. Media that wasn't huge and coporate.
At the brewery he drank alone. Thinking of how he used to read in an earlier life. Now he spent all his time either wasting time on the phone or just idling away hours while nursing beers at bars. What had happened to his life? Was this what it would be until his death?
Bartender asked, another one for you?
Marc Love looked at what remained of his tall glass. Shook his head. no. And drank.