He sat in the bar and looked over the pints that were on the table. His pint was empty, the others full. They always were. Every Sunday he would perform his ritual. Sometimes he would be silent, often he would cry softly.
Whenever asked he say that the pints belong to his wife and son who used to join him every Sunday for afternoon drinks.
After three pints he would get up and leave, driving home. Each time he hoped he would not make it. Each time he hoped to repeat the fateful day when his wife and son didn’t.
|Ryan Boucher is a Software Inquisitor and is passionate about it. You can find a whole raft of articles and anecdotes about software testing and other topics he gets excited about.|