The Almost

The bar was too loud and too warm and exactly the kind of place Noah loved.

Neon signs hummed against the windows. Someone’s playlist bled into the general noise bass heavy enough to feel in the floorboards. Our group had claimed the corner booth near the back, the one with the cracked vinyl seats and the table that always wobbled no matter how many folded napkins you shoved under the leg. There were six of us tonight. Mutual friends from college who still texted in the same group chat even though most of us had scattered into different jobs and different neighborhoods. Everyone was already two drinks in...