A dashing but dishellvelled drunk man hunched over the bar orders another drink.

A woman nearby leans over to him.

"Haven't you had enough?"

He turns to her, hate in his eyes and scorn written on his face.

"Yes. Yes I've had enough. I've had enough of people like you judging me, thinking they know what's best; I've had enough of being told what to do and what not to do by strangers; I've had enough of the pain in my chest when I wake up at night thinking of my ex-wife; I've had enough of the looks of disappointment I get when I go to the next AA meeting and have to admit I've failed again. But if you're asking me if I've had enough to drink, then the answer is no, I have not had nearly enough, and I'd thank you not to interfere."

He downs his drink and signals to the barman for another.

The woman regards him coolly.

"My name's Lorraine." She pats the seat beside her. "Come and sit with me."

He looks up at her, into her dark brown eyes. He slides over to her side, leaving his drink on the bar untouched as they start to talk.

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