And he was. With his ever comfortable smile, scraggly beard and frosty hair. A true master of ceremonies.
We chatted over a couple of brews and ordered sandwiches. He talked about his kids and traveling adventures. I talked about writing and digging through stuff at home.
A few smiles and laughs and watching the girl in the short jeans walk by.
Stories of history and perhaps future to tell.
Thanks for dinner.
And Buffy got fed.
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