Everything written after 2am and tagged last call.
I left before last call sure I'd dodged it. Then I heard the cab split three ways through the door that hadn't shut yet.
Closing the bar alone, the regular who never leaves, and the stool I still flip first. The wanting you keep at arm's length.
Nine years of being friends, and one hour at closing time where we weren't. We stood between our two cars and didn't use our keys.
The last two at the bar after last call, a hand that stayed a second too long, and the long way home so the cold would do something to my face.