They say that all sorts of men walk into a tavern, and I’m not going to argue it, but they do still fall into two groups. The first one is the social drinker. He’s there looking for friends and drinking with friends. You can spot them by the grin on their faces and the expectant way they look around a place as they enter.
The other sort is trying to drink alone. He wants to get away from something, wants to hide. He wants to drown out a woman, a mistake, a life badly lived. That sort will walk in without looking at anything, head to the far end of the bar, and wait to give their order.
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