roach walked through the cellar with a clipboard, taking inventory for an order to one of the newer local distributors. he stared at craft brews he’d taken a chance on. been told summery ales could be a great hit. bright berry goses and interesting sours, but he’d only been laughed at by his regulars.

”man, ain’t no one drinkin’ this shit here,” he muttered to himself.

and there the packs would sit, likely, unless he moved his inventory to the club, which was a chore and paperwork. /’s filled the blanks. no more orders at this time.

what about shandies though?

contemplating, he made his way out around the corner and back into the lower level of the bar. the shady one. he looked at the first person sitting closest with a nod of his scruffy chin.

”you like shandies?”

@ari

☉