“The regulars weren’t used to a bartender with loads of personality, so I filled Walt’s absence with surprising ease. And I was learning to better shield myself from the onslaught of others’ emotions.
Almost. It was still a drain being bombarded with sensations, but I found distance was a good buffer. If someone at one end of the bar was depressed, I took to hanging around the other. Mundane tasks like washing glasses also helped keep me from absorbing others’ emotional baggage.
It was after two when I looked up from polishing the brass taps to see a familiar face studying me from the last stool on the end: my ex-schoolmate, Sam Nielsen. I hadn’t changed much over the years, but Sam’s head of once-thick dark hair was long gone, and I didn’t think I’d ever get used to seeing his chrome dome.
I walked down to the end of the bar. “What can I get you?”
“Beer.”
“Any preference?”
“Canadian.”
“Draft or bottle?”
“Bottle.”
I grabbed him a Molson and a clean glass, set it in front of him.
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