I don’t expect you to believe this story. I don’t want to believe this story. I wish that I didn’t.
All of this happened earlier tonight — just another night at the bar.
Most of my co-workers stop in for a drink or two every evening, but not me. I’m always happy to go right home to my family… except for Fridays. That’s my night out, and I always spend an hour or two at Pickman’s, the pub on the ground floor of our office building. My colleagues and I were in our usual booth at the back, drinking beer and talking about work, about our plans for the weekend… about normal things...
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