Life in Small White Squares
Taverns: Consecutive Substack Story 1041
Vaughn Bartler doodled on his cocktail napkin, sipped his Labatt’s as almost an afterthought, used his pen to change the buffalo he had drawn to angry instead of cartoonish and giddy.
Izzie Lawdon wiped his bar area with a gold DCFC towel.
“Seem tense.”
Vaughn looked up.
“You know my son, right?”
“Met him, don’t really know him know him. He okay?”
“He’s great. I mean, in most of the important ways.”
Vaughn made smoke come from the buffalo’s nostrils and looked around the mostly empty Tuller.
He leaned in a little.
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