A girl and a guy walk into a bar like the start of some bad joke.
There’s some country-pop-Americana band playing in the corner under the Bud Light sign and no one dancing on the parquet.

It’s the best summer of his life, only he doesn’t know it.The girl is pretty, in a married five years with two kids kind of way. It is not the best summer of her life. It’s the summer he’ll leave–but no one knows that yet, not even him, for he pretends everything’s fine except that maybe he looks a little too long at the waitress when she drops the longneck on the sticky table.

He doesn’t look at his wife; she crosses her legs and swings one booted foot and watches the bartender, wishing she could sit at the bar and have the conversations that her husband won’t have with her.

The band plays, but no one’s listening.