walls of my Quonset are
no thicker than usual.

When Helen--that's my wife--dropped the casserole we got for a wedding
present from her aunt and just stood there by the kitchen sink crying
her eyes out in frustration I knew she finally had more of a mess to
clean up than just the shattered remains of a brittle bowl. I didn't
say a word. I couldn't. I shoved the chair across the room and watched
it tilt the lamp her mother bought us. Before the lamp hit the floor
my hat was on my head and I was out the door. Behind me I heard at
least one pane of the storm door die in a fatal crash. I didn't look
around to see if it were the one I'd put in last Sunday.

* * * * *

Art was glad to see me. He had the beer drawn and was evening the foam
before the heavy front door had shut us off from the street. "Been a
while, Pete. What's new?"

I was glad to see him, too. It was quiet in there. That's why I go
eight blocks out of my way for my beer. No noise, no loud talking or
you end up on the curb; quiet. Quiet and dark and comfortable and you
mind your own business, usually. "Got any more of those little boxes
of aspirin?"

He had some aspirin and was sympathetic. "Headache again? Maybe you
need a new pair of glasses."

I washed down the pills and asked for a refill on the beer. "Maybe,
Art. What do you know that's new?"

Nothing. We both knew that. We talked for a while; nothing important,
nothing more than the half-spoken, half-grunted short disjointed
phrases we always repeated. Art would drift away and lean on the other
end of the bar and then drift back to me and at the end of each trip
there would be clean ashtrays and the dark plastic along the bar would
gleam and there would be no dregs of dead drinks and the rows of fresh
glasses would align themselves in empty rows on the stainless steel of
the lower counter. Art's a good bartender when he wants to be. I held
up my empty glass.

"One more, Art. Got the radio section of the paper?"

He handed it to me. "Might be something on the television."

* * * * *

We both laughed. We both feel the same way about television, but he
has to have a set in his business for week-end football or baseball
games. A big set he has, too, with an extra speaker for the far end of
the bar for the short beer trade. I found the program I wanted and
showed Art the listing.

He looked at it. "Strauss ... that's that waltz musi