He stood with a group of men wearing red union shirts. He drank from a brown bottle of beer and threw his head back with laughter. The jukebox played Jimmy Buffet and she couldn’t hear his laugh, but it tapped out a familiar rhythm on the soles of her shoes. His forehead was shining with sweat and his thin mouth split his face in two when he laughed. His short hair was pulled into greasy streaks. The shirt stretched across his middle. She drank her beer and watched him. Fear pulsed quietly but it was manageable and this surprised and disappointed her. She walked out of the bar without telling her friends. It was raining and the cobblestones were shining. She didn’t have a thing to say to him. None of it mattered anymore.