The Nine Years Bar
By Shawn Lane
“Nine years.”
Allan Baker looked up, startled from scrolling through his phone, at the craggy-faced man sitting on the barstool to the right of him.
“Excuse me?”
The man appeared to be in his late seventies to early eighties, if Allan had to guess. The man wasn’t even really paying any attention to him, it seemed, since he was staring into the beer in front of him, but, on the other hand, there was no one else around.
“I said…nine years.”
“I heard you.” Allan frowned. “I just…how did you know? Are you like a psychic or something?”
The man glanced at him. “What?”
“You said nine years.” Allan swirled the whiskey in his glass, then took a sip.
It wasn’t a particularly trendy place. Not a club or a place young people would hang out. It was off the bea
