Steve was sitting in his friendgirl's truck (that's the way he's always refers to her) at the bar today when I caught up with him. He was eating a fish sandwich and debating with himself over whether or not to go in the diner and get some packets of salt. He didn't.
He seemed to feel a little better than when I left him yesterday. It may have been the forty ounce bottle of beer in his lap. His friends are determined to deny him vodka but that didn't stop them indulging in the late afternoon ritual.
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