He would sit close to the bar, on a warped wooden stool, and drink for a couple of hours before returning home. He usually had a friend accompany him,...but recently he entered the bar alone. He left the same way.The drinker shares a special bond with his drink. When that bubbling glass of cold and crisp brew is placed before the drinker, he knows intuitively that the drink provides an ultimate companionship. The glass doesn’t speak in monotonous tones. The glass of beer doesn’t talk back or. Her eyes began to fill with tears. "But, Paula is dead." She said calmly, staring at her friend. "I heard you say that. Jenny's dead too isn't she." Yes sweetheart," I held her right hand in mine, using my left to caress her hand and forearm, "they're both gone. You will be too, soon. But it won't hurt, I promise." Despite my reassurance tears began to trickle down her lovely cheeks."I don't want them to be dead." Her voice remained quiet and measured even through the tears."It's really all for. More

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