Somebody's Funeral

A bartender muses over two unusual customers.

Somebody’s Funeral

Call me a bad bartender.

Sometimes I just don’t ask.

Two young men sit down,

soundless, in the corner.

The taller one wears black

glasses, cracked, that don’t cover

the purple bruise on his lined face.

His silk shirt’s lost a button.

The blond one has long sleeves.

He starts to scratch his wrist, stops.

His thumbnail is tinged

red. He folds his arms.

They let their menus lie unopened

and ready to slip off the table’s edge.

They just keep asking

for more time.

Author's Note

Aaron
[e-mail]

Reviews

[Helen Woodward]

They sound like a couple of swells who would have eaten and run, satire is definitely your forte Aaron. I know I have said it before, but you are so damn good at it. You have wonderful observation skill as all good writers do.
This is so simple yet it has a complication that is beautifully executed with wit.
Loved it!!

[Dandy Jon Powder]

this is wonderful.

[Wandering Violet]

That leaves the reader with a lot to think about. Well done!

[Starry Eyed]

Woah... well written!!!!

[Hello, Goodbye]

very curious write.. nice concept and delivery.. and also good usage of brevity here..