Chalk it up. Call it a day. Cat nap. Chomp at the bit. Chew the fat.
She holds the pool cue gingerly between her knees as she chalks it up. There is something profoundly stupid about how she does it that makes me question even her sanity. Behind her on a shelf the bar’s cat naps. It is midnight and we’re the only ones left – she refuses to leave until she wins. The barkeep is a friend, he brings me beer and the burger I ordered.
“Come on you lot, it’s almost…” he pauses, “what’s that part after night?”
“I’d call it day.”
He laughs sarcastically at me, watching intently as I peel the rind off my bacon. I have an aversion and he likes to chew the fat.
“Nah, I mean the bit between.”
“Twilight,” she corrects me as she takes the first shot.