Paragraph(s) of the day from A Different Closet
It occurred to Keith when he saw the front of Black Thorn Pub that he might have immediately proposed marriage to any woman who had selected this bar as the site for their first date. He was momentarily delighted, though not enough to eliminate his anxiousness.
Black Thorn was a block west of the South Grand business district on Wyoming Street, which he and Phil Dampier walked across toward the door from Dampier’s year-old, silver Corvette. Keith could see through the window exactly the things that attracted him to neighborhood pubs. Several men sat at the bar in near darkness, with a basketball game underway on an overhead television. Younger men and lovely women played video games, pool, shuffle board, and foosball in back, where it was brighter. Warmth and cigarette smoke and the smell of oregano and bread rushed through the door, accompanied by jukebox music and loud talk and laughter. From the back he heard the clack of pool balls and electronic pulses and chirps from video games. Pitchers and brown bottles of beer and columns of smoke lined the bar and rose from the tables. The waitresses wore blue jeans and orange rugby shirts. One of them—a tiny brunette—touched Keith’s elbow. “Hi fellows,” she said. “Find a place to sit and someone’ll be right with you.”
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