Shades

The smoke in the room tends to cloud the senses and clear the mind. But I'm just here, sitting like I always do in the #57 booth at the back of Bob Gin's enjoying my bourbon mix. But something's off. The smoke in the room seems to gravitate toward a singularity--a well of attraction, if you will--and I find my attention solely settled on you. Welcome. Or good-bye? Either way, your drink's on me.