Gary ordered another pint he didn’t need.

The barman slid it across with the expression of a man who had watched this exact film many times before. Gary nodded back, an unspoken acknowledgement between two professionals witnessing a slow-motion mistake.

He took a sip. Immediate regret. The cold hit his tooth like disciplinary action. He hissed under his breath and set the glass down carefully, as if it might explode.

“Perfect,” he muttered. “Exactly what I ordered.”

He glanced back toward the table. She was talking to someone else now, smiling politely, engaged but not invested. The empty chair opposite her looked conspicuously reclaimed by the pub, already forgetting him.

That was how it always happened. One small misstep, then momentum finished the job.

Gary leaned heavily into the bar, letting the noise wash over him. Someone shouted at the darts board. Someone laughed far too loudly. Life continued, completely uninterested in his internal drama.

The tooth pulsed again, deeper this time. Less sharp. More ominous. He pressed his tongue flat and breathed through his nose, trying not to think about infections or consequences.

Another sip. Another mistake.

This wasn’t helping. But it was familiar. Familiar felt safer than hope.

Gary wiped his mouth and stared into the beer.

Right. Decision time.

Finish the drink and stay out of spite → Page 38

Accept defeat and head home → Page 40