Charlie squatted by the old faded gravestone and cleared the crab apple blossoms covering it. He didn’t know the poor chap buried beneath him. Hell, he could barely make out the name thanks to Mother Nature. He reached into his jacket, produced an old tarnished flask and passed his thumb over the engraved initials, “A.C.”. Charlie had fond memories of his father, Alfred, despite his drunkenness and supposed whoring around. Taking a long pull from the flask, the warmth of the whiskey radiated out from his belly. Looking down at the flask, “Ya left me too soon ya careless bastard. Had ya done yer job proper, you’d still be here.”
Screwing the cap down and replacing the flask, he produced a photo from the same pocket. The bearded man in the photo didn’t look back at Charlie. He was looking away and with good reason. He had no idea his picture was taken.
Across the street, the door to the pool room opened and two men stepped-out into the sunlight shielding their eyes. Charlie took another glance at the photo as he rose.
“Alright Pops, let’s finish-up”