The Glovebox Wallet

“I’ll have another,” he said.

The clerk wiped down the counter and avoided eye contact. “We’re not supposed to give customers more than three shots of that stuff,” he said.

“I aint askin,” the man said with a cold stare.

The clerk nervously poured another shot of what looked to be hog lagoon effluent and pushed the glass across the counter.

The man took the brimming glass with a calloused hand and stared into the murk… and staring back were wolf eyes; golden and immutable. He tossed the shot back as if in consuming the vision, he could consume the memory as well. The scar sickled across his face throbbing.

It was then he remembered that he had an emergency stash of cash in his glovebox wallet. His game of “drink & wait” had been for nothing… just his like his life.

Get your saviour here.