Henry heads across town. He knows she'll probably be at a place called the Duchess. She walks in fifteen minutes after him; a little past eleven.
Stops at the bar long enough to order whatever is cheapest. He misses her days of being secure and always ordering a Jack. Oddly. He hates that she's drinking beer.
He watches her go outside, and ask someone what the score is. She sits at a table by herself, and he can see from the angle of her eyes she's not watching the TV, but the fireplace below it.
She lights a cigarette. Figured, he thinks, as she's no longer inside chatting, but delegated to the patio like a piarah. No more chatter, no more fun, Henry thinks as he sits inside that's now quieter than a library.
Mostly she now drinks on a park bench with her earbuds at full blast. She won't forgive; nor ever forget how much the bar once meant to the neighborhood.
She orders a second beer, and leaves it full on the bar as she walks out in disgust. She stops at the grocery store and buys a bottle of rum, a bag of ice,and a two liter of soda.
He follows her to the water; where she sits and lost in thought, pours another drink. He knows she'll disappear in an hour or two. Looking for a lost world.
He doesn't know why he cares; for him a drink is doing business, but for her a way of life. To watch someone so social once, being all alone now is his justification for watching.
He sees eyes in the dark across the water; watching also. He nods his head in a greeting to a stranger that in now an acquaintance.
She at least says hello to him. Her only social skills left; then walks away when she can be bothered to walk in his direction; which is less and less.
He watches her finish the bottle of rum, and throw it into the water. She follows the path to the stairs; looks up and keeps going to the other side of the bridge; the easier path.
Henry is at his usual spot, at his usual time. Oddly, he is wondering if she even remembers what he has written, and if this was what she meant the cards to be.
Not like him to question himself or his judgement. He shakes his head at the thought, and gets out the box.
Reading the car...