Third Wheel
The more we talk, the more I need my drink.
“You ordered a drink I’ve never heard of.” He turns briefly, grasps Jim, Jack, and Johnnie, then places them on the bar. He shakes his head, smiling widely, then excuses himself to pull a plaque from the back wall near the register. He rips the paper reading 429 from its clear pocket. On a Post-It note, he writes a large, thick zero then slides it under the plastic. Slowly, he spins the plaque to face me.
I read aloud, “‘Zero days since Jorge has been stumped. Oh!” I gasp.