Don was sitting at a booth toward the back and waved as he saw me come in. The half-empty glass in front of him indicated that he’d gotten a head start on happy hour. It also portended the tone of our conversation.
“You hear that Arthur Miller just died?” he asked as I slid into the booth.
“I did. What about it?”
“Well, he ain’t really dead. His spirit is alive and well and thriving in me. That’s because I’m a living, breathing, sickening manifestation of Willy Loman. You, my friend, are looking at a pathetic loser.”