I could almost see my reflection in the Jack Daniel’s shine of Maria’s lips when she said that we had to take back the sex and sense of humor.
“These kids have no chance,” she said. “We’re gonna be overrun.”
She was right, a symptom of the obvious.
“We’re getting old,” I told her.
“Exactly, and with age comes an increased responsibility to society, and you and I are gonna start right now. We gotta help these poor fucking kids take back the lives they have barely been given.”
“By taking the message to them,” she said. The fall sun forced its way into the bar’s only door, silhouetting her as she walked to the jukebox. Over a shoulder – and “Someone’s gotta talk some sense into them.”