The Bar
The man picked up the tumbler, downed the whiskey in one swallow and slammed the glass on the glistening mahogany. He shuddered. “That did the trick.” His black eyes moved to the bartender, shoving his glass towards him. “But that ain’t Jameson’s, ace. Don’t try that again.”
Real Evil is More Like Carter Burke
The stock market is just white collar gambling.
You are not your real self at work—you’re a character version of yourself with all the edges sanded down.