An aging man, long ponytail with a receding hair line, sits at a table with a craft beer and a younger couple. He isn’t old enough to be their father, but rather a desperate friend. He wears shorts in January, but his heavy jacket doesn’t match.
Perhaps he enjoys younger people; maybe younger lovers; maybe a little too close from ending up on a certain shunned list. Or maybe he can’t let go of the youth that let him down.