Tossing back his scotch, he gestured for another. Waiting for it, he chanced to hear the music from the battered jukebox.
Frowning, he figured he had a revelation for the dumbass singer. He'd stopped believin' a long time ago. Somewhere along the line, he'd given up on hoping, dreaming and caring too for that matter.
All he had left now was pretending. He kept on pretending his job hadn't sacked him, his wife still loved him and he could quit drinking any damned time he wanted.
Sighing, he supposed pretending would just have to do until something better came along.
This story was written for BlogFlash2012 Day 9: Journey