The young surgeon sat at the bar in the lounge studying the contours of the ice cube at the bottom of his whiskey. His eyes closed for a moment. This is the best I can do for a night on the town now. I guess the Drake who was a lover of life is gone. He lifted the glass and drained it. He motioned for another. I have one friend. And his name is Jameson. “Thank you.” He said to the bartender as he watched the brass coloured fluid fill the glass. He tapped the rim of the glass a few times before taking a sip.

-Drake Marshall