Thump. Clumps of dirt rolled off of the mound and struck the casket. Only a few mourners lingered as the maintenance staff began filling the six foot hole.

Thud, another shovel full of earth to cover up a lifetime of memories. A woman stood near the hole crying quietly as a young man gently tried to hold her up, trying to keep his eyes away from the pit.

Another man kept his distance standing near several large tombstones. “Idiots,” he took a long drag on his cigarette. “All of them.”

He flicked the smoking butt into a nearby bouquet of flowers and turned away from the funeral. “You stand over a man, crying, when his problems are over.” He pulled another cigarette from his pocket and lit up. “We should both be down there,” another hit, “fortunately I’m not.” The man stopped at the edge of the cemetery, “At the very least I’m grateful,” he smiled, “I like it better this way.”

A neon sign beckoned from across the street, a call to anyone who wanted to drown their problems in alcohol. The man made his way over and opened the door, the stale air of cheap booze, smoke and grease surrounded him. He drank it in willingly.

The bar echoed with the sounds of clattering billiards and an old honkytonk song that should have retired years ago. The man sat down on a stool and placed his hands on the sticky counter. The bartender nodded his way, “Whiskey,” the man said, “and keep them coming.” He tossed a wad of bills on the counter and looked around.

There were a few patrons hanging around the darkened booths as the only waitress made her rounds back and forth. Here and there she was met by a slap on the rump and a soft whistle. She giggled and winked back, a habit she should have shelved thirty years ago. The man turned up his nose to her as she stopped in front of him.

“Anything from the kitchen, sweet thing?”

“No thanks,” he said, “just don’t call me that again.”

She frowned and started to say something. The look in his eyes made her think better of it and she walked away.

As the shutter doors swayed from her exit to the kitchen, the man focused his attention to the couple at the end of the bar. Smiling, he looked in the young woman’s direction and caught her gaze.

Her round face was soft, with full lips and sparkling blue eyes. She smiled back at him, and then coughed as the man beside her blew smoke into her face. “Dammit, Bruce,” she said, “you know I don’t like it when you smoke them things.”

“Aw, hell,” he said. “Don’t start on me about that again. It’s been a rough damn week, Cassie, and I need somethin’ to calm my damn nerves.”

Cassie waved her hand in front of her. “Well, fine, then why don’t you go smoke with your friends over there instead of blowin’ ash in my hair.”

“Shit, woman,” Bruce stood up, “what the hell’s your problem?” He sighed heavily and walked to a group of men clustered around a pool table.

The man watched as Bruce took up a game of darts and Cassie ordered another beer. He concentrated his gaze on her and whispered her name. In the middle of taking a drink, she slowly lowered her glass and looked in his direction. Cassie glanced behind her and turned back to him, looking into his eyes she slowly pointed to herself and mouthed the word, “Me?”

He nodded and casually gestured to the stool beside him. She blushed and shot a nervous glance at Bruce and the men playing pool. The man shook his head and gestured again.

Taking a deep breath, Cassie stood and made her way towards the man. She straightened her short red dress and bit her lip as her eyes flicked toward the group again.

The man caught her eyes again and the anxiety melted from her. She couldn’t see what color they were, but something about him seemed comfortable and familiar. He patted the seat of the stool and she sat down next to him. As she took another breath she could smell a pleasing mixture of the outdoors mingled with spice, it reminded her of home.

Before she could stop herself she asked, “Is that you? It smells so familiar.”

He smiled again, “The cologne? Yes, do you like it?”

“Oh, yes,” she said and put her fingers to her lips as if she had let something slip. “I’m sorry,” she extended her hand, “my name’s Cassie.”

Taking his hand, she was surprised at its softness and then there was something else. It felt like a rush of warmth spread from her hand into her entire body. Cassie began to wonder what it would feel like to have his hands all over her.

“I know,” he said, “I heard you talking to Bruce over there.” The man jerked a thumb over to the people playing darts. “Are you two a couple?” he asked.

Blinking back her previous thoughts, Cassie shook her head. “Not really, no,” she said, “more on again, off again than anything else.” She looked back toward Bruce, “more off again, I guess.”

“Good,” he said, “then I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me buying you a drink.”

“No, probably not,” she snorted, suppressing a chuckle. “I’m sure he’d appreciate you saving him the money.”

“Fantastic, what would you like?”

“What’re you havin’?”

“Whiskey.”

“Oh,” Cassie said. “Bad day?”

The man hesitated as he brought the drink to his lips. “Bad life,” he muttered into the glass.

Her lips curved into a lopsided smile, “Well, I can definitely drink to that.” She raised her hand to the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s havin’.”

The drinks kept coming, and the man’s stack of bills never seemed to get any lower as the evening wore on. The first five drinks, no one noticed, the next five and the gentlemen at the pool table began to murmur. The man smiled to himself at their hushed tones, knowing exactly what would happen next. Once Cassie’s hand reached his upper thigh he was waiting for Bruce’s hand on his shoulder.

He was pleasantly surprised when it was actually two fingers jabbed into his back. “Jus’ what the hell d’ya think yer doin’?” Bruce had apparently kept pace with their drinking, the man noticed.

“I saw a young woman alone, who looked like she could use a drink.” He replied.

“Iz that right? Well, I…well, I think that maybe you should jus’ get the hell outta here’s what I think.” He teetered a little into the man’s shoulder, his breath heavy with alcohol and nicotine.

The man shrugged, “The lady and I are having a perfectly good time.” He tapped a finger to his lip, “Why don’t you go back to boozing it up with your buddies and just have a good night?”

Cassie still sat beside the man but tried to move her stool a slight distance away from Bruce. He glared at her, “Where the fuck do ya think yer goin’?” He moved around the man and grabbed Cassie by the wrist. “Yer comin’ with me right now.” He turned to walk away with her.

The man stood directly in front of the couple and looked into Cassie’s eyes. “Do you want to leave with him, Cassie?”

Trying not to look at Bruce she shook her head. Seeing her movement, Bruce jerked her forward and Cassie gasped in pain.

A hand shot to Bruce’s wrist and stopped him mid stride. “The lady said that she didn’t want to go,” the man said.

Bruce got right into his face and spat, “I don’t give a shit what she wants, so why don’ you jus’ fuck off?”

“I’d rather not.” The man clenched his jaw.

Glazed over eyes flicking left and right, Bruce motioned with his other hand. The sound of several chairs backing up could be heard. “Last chance, asshole. Back da fuck off.”

He smiled as the crowd began to gather behind him. “I’ve waited a very long time for an opportunity like this, are you sure you wouldn’t like to try this another night?”

“Fuck you.”

His eyes glistened in the dim light. “I don’t think so.”

There was a subtle crack and it took Bruce’s alcohol soaked mind a moment to realize that his wrist had just been broken. He screamed and released Cassie’s arm, in the same instant the man put his other hand on the drunken man’s shoulder and brought Bruce’s face into his knee. The impact knocked Bruce unconscious and he slumped to the floor. He turned around to face the crowd arranged around him and smiled again.

Cassie stumbled back behind the counter as the rest of the bar erupted into violence. She tried to focus her thoughts on what was happening, but her mind kept shifting to what was probably going to happen. The man would be beaten or killed, and either Bruce or one of his friends would rough her up or worse.

She tried not to dwell on it and instead peeked her head out to see whatwas happening. Her eyes went wide as she saw the man still stood, unbloodied with only Phil, one of Bruce’s friends, still standing.

“Think yer pretty slick don’cha?” Phil said as he waved a broken bottle in the man’s direction.

The floor was littered with bodies and broken pool cues. Cassie looked at the man who circled Phil unarmed. She had heard stories about Phil’s drunken brawls from Bruce, he seemed to relish in the violence. “Are you going to keep hiding behind that bottle, or are you going to do something with it?” the man taunted.

That was all that needed to be said as Phil yelled and lunged. In one quick sidestep the man swept the bottle away, locked Phil’s elbow between his arms, and with a sickening snap made the brawler’s arm point in the wrong direction.

He let out a high pitched scream and dropped to his knees. The man came behind him and slammed his face into a nearby table. Phil joined his fallen friends on the sticky floor.

The man wiped his hands together and moved toward the counter. His eyes lit up when he saw Cassie crouched there. “Wonderful,” he said, “You’re still here. Would you mind grabbing me a wet towel, my hands are rather dirty from all the filth.”

The splash of a shower echoed from the bathroom as a dull thump repeatedly shook the wall. Cassie let out a moan and called upon a god that she never believed in as she held tightly to the man. He carried her from the shower to the bed of their hotel room where they continued until the darkness under the curtain began to lighten with the coming dawn.

He stood up and dressed, carefully moving about the room so as not to wake the young woman wrapped in the sheets. Pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket, he turned and blew a kiss to Cassie as he opened the door to the room, the emergency lights reflecting red off of his obsidian eyes.

Lighting the cigarette as he walked out of the hotel, the man shielded his eyes as the first sliver of the sun broke the horizon. He turned and continued through downtown, taking long drags. The few people that he met on the street either lived there or were trying to avoid the walk of shame to wherever they were going.

Smiling at the thought, he flicked the butt of his cigarette into the street and reached into his pocket for another. He pulled it out and tried his lighter, nothing. Trying several times he gave up and threw it into the street.

Turning, he walked back in the direction of the hotel, hoping the concierge might have another on hand. As he moved in front of a display window of a local shop, the sun broke free of the rooftops and washed out his reflection in blinding light. Blocking his eyes, he stumbled as his toe caught hold of the uneven sidewalk.

Hidden behind a cloud, the glare subsided. “Better watch your footing,” a familiar voice said, “it can be tricky out there.”

The man smiled as he slowly stood up, “Hello, Simon. I didn’t think you’d come to claim me so quickly.” He raised his eyes to the window and saw his reflection gazing down on him.

“Quickly?” The reflection replied, eyebrows raised. “How long did you think you were going to have?” The man named Simon crossed his arms over his chest. “No one’s nature gets free reign out here.”

Laughing, the man reached back into his pocket for a cigarette. “I beg to disagree with you on that statement. I’ve run into some interesting characters over here in the short time we parted ways.” He waved his cigarette at Simon, “Do you think you could help me out here?”

Rolling his eyes, Simon reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter.

He ignited it and held it to the edge of the reflection. “How long have you been smoking?”

The man put the cigarette to the glass, let it light and took a long drag. He blew the smoke at the reflection, “Since you’ve been dead.”

Simon locked eyes with the man, “You mean since we’ve been dead.”

“No, Simon,” the man took another puff, “I was always dead, you were the one who left me behind, remember? Ever since you were a little kid you’ve refused me the things I’ve always wanted to do.” This time he took a long hit, “I was your nature, as much a part of your life as anything else, and despite what you would call a few indiscretions, you repressed me for over seventy years. So, I packed in as much as possible and had a great time without you.” He flicked the butt at the window, bouncing it off right between Simon’s eyes. He took out his last cigarette, held it to the glass and glared at the reflection. “How did you find me?”

The reflection of Simon reached out of the window’s surface and grabbed the man by the wrist, “I didn’t, Simon, he did.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and stepped aside.

Light from behind Simon burst through the reflection just as the sun broke free from the clouds and illuminated the window. There was a piercing wail that most passerby attributed to someone slamming on their brakes, and as the glare subsided the only thing left before the storefront was a light shadow.

Individuals passed it by without noticing that the shadow had begun to move up the street. It continued on as Cassie emerged from the hotel, confused and alone, and lingered only for a moment as Bruce stumbled out of the hospital with a cast on his forearm and a taped nose.

It finally stopped at a newly filled in grave. A shadow fell over the headstone that read, Simon Cross, loving husband, father, and friend. Wind hissed through the trees, though the branches never moved.

Across the yard someone cried out as a casket was unloaded from a hearse. A low chuckle was heard as leaves crunched underneath the feet of friends and family of the recently departed. As the sun shone down upon the mourners, a shadow crept its way toward the new grave.