“I can, you know. Get something. For it.” Mrs. Smith spun her hi-ball on a thin layer of water. “That’s what he says. Who wants that, really?”

Sam was 23 and not at all sure why she was telling him about her…much older husband? He stood behind the bar polishing a glass, doing his best to avoid her eyes. The two were alone.

“Get something for it, Sammy,” Mrs. Smith repeated. She expected a response. She stared at him, eyes upward as she sucked Seagrams through the straw. It unnerved him. She called him Sammy from day one and it still made his hair stand on end….