Jack of Harts

There’s this bar at Gateway called Cowboy Joe’s.  There’s a room in the back reserved for anyone who flew with the Peloran, regardless of nationality.  There’s cheap honeyed ale, cheaper beer, free conversations, and a place to step away from the world there in that room.  And there’s a shot glass on the wall with the name of each one of us that is no longer here stenciled into it.  I go there every chance I get, and tell a story about one of them I knew.  We all do.