One Man, Two Drinks

I'd seen him at the bar before. He ordered two drinks, both shots, and drank one slowly. The other would sit there half the night until the man left, well before Last Call, well before he should have. Two drinks. One man. No one got it.

Then I heard the rumors. All of them had to be false, every last one of them, except for one. Hermione Granger came into the bar one evening, hair all done-up, makeup perfect as well, divorce papers signed and in a manila envelope. It sat in front of her for hours as she sipped lady drinks, then the man came in.

She watched him intently while he was there, as well as the people watching him. When he'd left, she went to each of us and told us about his brother, and why he always wore a black hoodie. We all understood: We'd all lost family.

But he had it a lot worse than any of us.

We said a toast to him, then each of us bought a second drink in honor of his dead twin. People who came in late were shocked as hell, but the message was well-received with the rest of us: Rest in peace.