Karl is a thin man in a faded black t-shirt. He wears thick glasses that stretches his face past the skin above and below the frame. He wears wrinkles and a jack-o’-lantern smile.
We think he wants a cigarette, but he wants money for a drink. We ask for a joke in return, but he doesn’t have any good ones. Sorry, he says, I got a bit of a st-stutter. We shrug and give him loose singles because hey, we respect the need for beer money.
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