I ate a sandwich and ordered another beer. About halfway into it, I spotted Don approaching the entranceway, topcoat over his arm, head turning. I manufactured a matching quantity of surprise when he appeared beside my table with a, "Ron! Is that really you?" I rose and clasped his hand.
"Alan! Small world, or something like that. Sit down! Sit down!"
He settled onto the chair across from me, draped his coat over the one to his left. "What are you doing in this town?" he asked. "Just a visit," I answered. "Said hello to a few friends." I patted the scars, the stains on the venerable surface before me. "And this is my last stop. I'll be leaving in a few hours." He chuckled. "Why is it that you knock on wood?" I grinned.
"I was expressing affection for one of Henry Mencken's favorite speakeasies."
"This place dates back that far?" I nodded.
"It figures," he said. "You've got this thing for the past, or against the present. I'm never sure which."
"Maybe a little of both," I said. "I wish Mencken would stop in. I'd like his opinion on the present…What are you doing with it?"
"What?"
"The present. Here. Now."
"Oh." He spotted the waitress and ordered a beer. "Business trip," he said then. "To hire a consultant."
"Oh. How is business?"
"Complicated," he said, "complicated."
We lit cigarettes and after a while his beer arrived. We smoked and drank and listened to the music.
I've sung this song and I'll sing it again: the world is like an uptempoed piece of music. Of the many changes which came to pass during my lifetime, it seems that the majority have occurred during the past few years. It also struck me that way several years ago, and I'd a hunch I might be feeling the same way a few years hence, that is, if Don's business did not complicate me off this mortal coil or condenser before then.