“Hey.” It was the plaid shirt from the end of the bar walking toward me. Middle-aged, bald. I’d seen him in here before but never talked to him. “You the guy I saw on television last night, the guy who ran into that burning building to save a woman?”
I took a drink from my longneck and looked at him. “Yeah. That was me. How’d you know?”
“I saw it, man. Saw it on the late news. Something else. Why’d you do it?”
“It’s a bit complicated, mate. Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“All right,” he said. He turned, went back to his end of the bar, and said to his friend, “Like I told you, that was the guy.”
I took another drink.
“Is that true? What he said?” It was Sally, the bartender wiping up the water rings.
“As I live and breathe. Listen, I gotta push on, Sweetheart. What do I owe you?”
“Nothing, Sam. It’s on the house. Should be paying you.”
“You think?” I winked at Sally and ambled out onto the sidewalk. I thought to myself, I gotta find that scene on youtube, see how much that guy really looks like me.
Jim Woessner works as a visual artist and writer living on the water in Sausalito, California. He has an MFA in Creative Writing from Bennington College. His publishing credits include The Daily Drunk, Flash Fiction Magazine, Close to the Bone, Adelaide Magazine, Potato Soup Journal, The Sea Letter, and others.