Mr. Friday lived for two things. To drink. And to fuck. And if anyone got in the way of either he was willing to throw hands. Funny enough, he wasn't good at fighting, but always willing. Whenever he lost, the barkeep forced him to pay a fine. "Why do you...

It was  Sunday afternoon. He was 30. And felt loneliness for the first time. This was the first time when nobody needed him. Nobody was looking for him. He could die and there would be no meaningful impact.

He had been at the  cafe . None of the usual crowd were...