Stag - November 1980

The night blurred into a series of toasts and progressively louder stories about hunting trips and high school football. By midnight, the snow outside had turned into a steady fall, blanketing the rows of parked domestic cars in white.

When Jack finally stepped out of the bar, the silence of the November night hit him like a physical weight. The crisp air cleared the smoke from his lungs. He walked to his car, brushed the snow off the windshield with his sleeve, and sat in the driver's seat. He looked at the tuxedo bag in the back. Stag November 1980

"You okay, kid?" his father asked, leaning in. His breath smelled of peppermint and whiskey. "Just thinking about tomorrow," Jack lied. The night blurred into a series of toasts