The two had spent the evening in the company of Amy's friend Ethan, a law student at Pace. The handsome young man had a bright faced young woman in tow, Sheri. Ethan and Sheri met the couple at a swanky speakeasy in the West Village. Their other friend Lauren came along as well but she didn't have a man.
The young man had visions of a previous era something reminiscent of Mad Men. Strong cocktails with names as dusty as the walls rotated among the group. Musical drinks. The jump and jive of the background jazz peppered the atmosphere in the place. One drink was enough for both the wallet and the soul. The group departed.
Sheri knew an old college roommate who was boozing nearby in Chelsea. The roommate had a boyfriend, who according to campus legend at Sheri's alma mater had many unsavory characteristics, some smaller than others.
The roommate had difficulty speaking on account of her heavy intoxication. She mustered a fit of giggles in painful unison with Sheri's cackle. That left the young man to bear the numbing commentary of the boyfriend.
"I know a glass of water smarter than this guy," the young man thought while looking the boyfriend in the eye.
He was training to be a cop. Of course this revelation for normalcy and a career came only after string of jobs on ranches and farms. The young man regretted letting the cretin turn his brain to putty.
The young man wished it were a dream. The wish was later realized.
Swirls of memories collided into a smoky aftermath. His sleep became Vietnam, the boyfriend his Vietcong.
He awoke in the middle of the night terrified someone might slice his face with the edge of a broken bottle.
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