(Cole)
The bar was busy the way Atlanta bars got on Saturday nights.
Aaron had picked the place himself after I told him to choose somewhere that wasn't a restaurant. He'd found it within five minutes on his phone and looked pleased enough with the result that I didn't argue. Good music, decent drinks, enough people to make the room feel alive without being impossible to have a conversation in.
We found a spot near the back away from the main crowd.
"This is better," Aaron said.
"Than the house?"
"Significantly," he replied.
I ordered and he did the same and we settled into the kind of easy conversation that only existed between people who had known each other long enough to skip the performance of it. Aaron talked about home without making it heavy. I listened and answered where I
