Old TimersMature

I sat near enough to listen as the group traded complaints and speculations, nursing my drink and working on my “inebriated contemplation” look.
    “Damn son say I'm too old to go!”
    “You are too old! He's going all the way to... what was it?”
    “That mountain place, the little one, right?”
    “That's days away, you wouldn't make it half a day on your bum leg. Just drink up and pass out like a civilized person.”
    “He only picked the damn mountain so I couldn't go with him.” The father actually pouted a little at this, a testament to how much he'd drunk I suppose.
    “That's not why and you know it. They were fighting there when the invaders left. Remember, your brother was there?”
    The father grunted something about not being senile, but went back to his drink. The rest of the group let him be, and finally started suggesting where they would have gone to look had whatever kept them here not done so.
    I wasn't going to glean anything meaningful from sitting here listening to geriatrics boast about how adventurous they'd be if they weren't so busy getting shitty and hiding from the crowds. I braced myself and tried to see if I could coordinate my standing and drinking well enough that the vodka never actually contacted my mouth. There was no point in acknowledging Irv. He knew I wasn't going to pay him and I knew he wasn't going to care, so why make it more awkward for both of us.

The End

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