She stopped. "I saw you in here the other night. What are you writing, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Oh, nothing," he said, closing the notebook. "Just notes. My daughter got married this weekend."
"Ah."
"Want a beer or something?" He felt like talking. She turned towards the table, and he moved a chair out of the way.
"Thank you." The bartender came over. "The usual," she said. He brought her a glistening martini. "I like a vodka martini about this time. Was it a nice wedding?"
"Very. Out on the San Juan's"
"Lovely. Here's to their happiness." It was what Joe had spent the last two days doing. He drank the last of his beer and ordered another.
"I was working on a story the other night," he offered.
"Have you been writing long?"
"No. Well—depends. I've always kept notebooks. I've written some poems, and now I'm trying to write stories."