It was not that unusual for us to sit up all night, talking the hours away and sharing the occasional long silence, each of us drinking his chosen beverage. At dawn he'd don the bloodstained butcher's apron that had belonged to his father. He'd go to the butchers' mass at St Bernards in the meatpacking district. Once in a while i'd keep him company.
A Drop of the Hard Stuff
Lawrence Block
2011
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