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Every Saturday night, the band downstairs covered King for twenty-or-so retirees at the bar. They held onto their drinks and memories as they applauded the classics, their rings and watches sounding like wind chimes against frosted glasses. Broken wing love birds smiled and laughed with one another. The bartender cut limes and dropped cherries as they rose a drunken toast. *Here's to this moment, where we're anything but old.*
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
Stand By Me
Every Saturday night, the band downstairs covered King for twenty-or-so retirees at the bar. They held onto their drinks and memories as they applauded the classics, their rings and watches sounding like wind chimes against frosted glasses. Broken wing love birds smiled and laughed with one another. The bartender cut limes and dropped cherries as they rose a drunken toast. *Here's to this moment, where we're anything but old.*
Darling, darling, stand by me.
christopher-cizek
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Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
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