Karl stood behind the bar, skillfully shaking a shaker as he mixed a cocktail for a customer. The bar was in its busiest hour, but with his experience and ease, Karl did not look flustered at all. He worked while whistling along to the music playing through the speakers, though his eyes occasionally glanced toward Jackson, who was sitting at one corner of the bar, quietly sipping his drink.
Jackson looked like a man drowning in sorrow, indifferent to the world around him. Karl could no longer remember how many drinks Jackson had ordered. He only knew that whenever the glass in Jackson's hand emptied, Jackson would silently signal for another without saying a word.
