Jack sighed in relief. The end of another long day had finally come and now it was time to get a few drinks in him. It certainly hadn’t been a pleasant day and he hoped to find the night more enjoyable. The dessert air burned across his skin even though it was late in the evening. The sun could be seen as a slender sliver of red as it was swallowed into the desert sand in the distant horizon to the west.
Jack stood before his favorite place in town. This small rundown town felt old and crippled. It didn’t have much to offer other than lawless dealings and questionable services. It was a tough job trying to keep his duty.
Sometimes he felt like he was getting nowhere and it was tougher to face the end of the day without a single thing accomplished. But, he found solace every night at the bar before him. Sometimes it was just easier to drink your problems away. It was the same every day, following the same old routine. It was the same time, same place; dusk, Sam’s Bar. It was just another day in the boring hard life of an old man.
Jack pushed open the rickety swinging doors to the bar and walked in. As he entered, another man was leaving and they bumped shoulders. “’scuse me,” Jack murmured. The other man gave him the eye and just grunted. As the sheriff of Redspring, Jack was used to such people. However, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the lack of respect. He felt, and was treated, like an ordinary citizen. He had originally secured his authority in this town because he was one of those people who literally believed that things could change. He had believed that he could bring about peace to one of the most lawless and dirtiest places in the entire country, but Jack knew better now. The world didn’t want to change. So many years he has worked to no avail. All he could do now was join the rest of the miserable crowd of useless folk with no purpose. He decided long ago that his main purpose would be the bar and its decaying foundation.
The inside of the bar was dimly lit by a center chandelier and dark shadows engulfed corners and the undersides of tables. There weren’t many people in the room. There was Sam behind the counter and few others scattered throughout. It wasn’t much of mystery. Even though it was a small town, not many people dared leave their homes this late at night. A man could get shot just by taking two steps from his own front door. He himself almost got into such trouble on the way here. Removing his hat, Jack rubbed his tired craggy face with a wrinkly old hand and chose a seat next to someone at the bar counter. He then looked up at the owner of the bar and said with a worn smile, “Evening Sam, you old buzzard.” His old friend, his hands occupied while he wiped a glass with a dirty rag, looked up at him. Sam was a weathered looking man. A big man, taller than he was wide, he was slightly paunchy and carried a rough face with a thick brown beard.
“Morning Jack,” Sam said with a gruff voice as he grinned through his sunburnt face. “How’s the wife and kids?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jack flustered. “I aint got no family. You been drinking ‘stead of serving?”
“Yeah I know that. It’s just…I don’t know, every time you come in here it’s the same thing. We say hi to each other, you have your usual drink, maybe we talk some more ‘bout recent events, and then you leave. I just figured I try something new today. What’s wrong with two men trying to get closer to each other?” Sam looked at him with a dead serious face. That straight poker face suddenly split wide into a grin and then Sam burst out laughing.
Jack lightly chuckled at his friend. “See…I knew it. You have been drinking.”
“Well, perhaps a sip,” Sam only laughed more. “By the way, don’t tell anyone else. You know how Mrs. Wensly gets about that stuff; she’s a fidgety old bird.”
“I won’t tell a soul as long as you stop making up crap just to shoot the breeze. Besides, it’s not like I have anything to say in return. ”
“Sure Jack,” Sam said with a pitiful look. He sat in silence for a few minutes as if pondering something. He then leaned in towards Jack as if to tell a secret. “By the way Jack,” Sam lowered his voice to a whisper. “Did’ya see whose here?” Without moving his head, his eyes veered off to the left of the room.
Not bothering to turn, Jack nodded in confirmation. “Yeah I saw.”
The man in question sat in a dark corner by himself watching them. The guy was fairly obese and wore an ill-fitted suit. He had the face of a pig, with puffed out cheeks and bloated lips, it was almost comical. This man however had been the source of Jack’s troubles this morning, along with the past few days.
“If you don’t mind me asking, who is he exactly? I’ve heard that he’s been bothering you lately…..not to be nosy or anything.”
“Just some lackey has-been who showed up about three days ago. He was sent by the government to ruffle me up somewhat. Don’t worry about it, he’ll be leaving soon.”
“What’s wrong Jack, you kill someone important,” Sam grinned.
Jack smiled back. “Not yet, and even if I kill a certain someone that’s not to say their important.”
Sam mocked offence. “Me, not important?”
“You serve drinks for a living.”
“A lot of men would consider that important. You certainly consider it an important occupation.” Sam winked with a smile, handed him three fairly large glasses of his usual drink, and walked off to go wipe some of the tables.
Jack smirked, immediately drained the contents of one of the glasses, and allowed his stress to melt away so as not to be recognized by his mind. As he began working his way on his second glass, he heard some scratching noises and looked over to see the man sitting next to him diligently writing across some parchment. The man was young, maybe in his twenties, had a finely shaved face and a lean frame. Jack had never seen this man before and figured he was probably just another traveler passing through town. “What are you doing there?” Jack asked as took in a mouthful of alcohol. “You a writer or something?”
The man looked up from his writing and smiled. “I guess you could say that,” he said pleasantly.
“What are you writing? I could use a good story, if you don’t mind mister…...” Jack waved his hand searching for a name.
“Quinn.” The man held out a friendly hand and shook the sheriff’s. “And I don’t mind. However, it’s kind of a complicated plot.”
“Ha,” Jack took another swig of his drink. “Isn’t it always? Everything seems to be a complicated plot these days. Heck, some days I wake up and I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. If you ask me, life’s a complication.”
Quinn smiled at him. “I can tell. That’s a strong drink you have there. Trying to flood away your problems?”
“Something like that,” Jack pondered as he scratched his fingernail on the wooden countertop. His eyes seemed glazed over as he stared off into the distance. “Sometimes I just wish I knew what I was doing.”
“Yes, but sometimes it takes a certain viewpoint to see through the complications of life and figure out the maze.”
“What high almighty watchtower are you gazing from?” Jack sneered.
“No tower, just the view from here. I don’t consider myself at any higher vantage point than you. You sit there, I sit here. We simply see the room at different angles. What do you see from your view Jack? What’s your take on things?”
Jack just grumbled to himself. Why did he get stuck having this bizarre conversation? Sure he started it, but this man next to him seemed sober so the guy was surely nuts. Jack took yet another gulp from his drink buried his head on the countertop, his face now reddening. “Oh boy another drunk loon just out of the circus.”
Quinn smiled. “Sorry, sometimes I get carried away and start spouting nonsense. Let’s start over shall we. Let me buy you another drink.”
Jack seemed to pep up a little as he raised his head. “Yeah well….make it two,” he said with a slight slur in his voice.
All of a sudden a loud shattering crash could be heard from somewhere behind the kitchen doors. Everyone in the room looked up towards the noise. Sam roared as he stormed off into the kitchen, “Johnny! How many more dishes can one man break? I swear, one of these days I’m going to break your bloody arms ya useless klutz.” A panicked voice could be heard in reply, apologizing up and down for the unseen broken mess.
Jack chuckled at the outburst and then turned back to look at Quinn with a cheery cherry face now plastered with a ridiculous grin. “Anyway back to that story of yours, what was it about?”
“You Jack,” Quinn stated with a now expressionless face. His eyes pierced at Jack’s with a steady gaze that seemed to suggest pity.
“Wha…,” Jack slurred in a slightly amused, yet confused voice. “What nonsense are you rumbling about now?” Jack chugged down some more from his glass. “And how do you know my name?” Now aggravated and annoyed, he slammed down his glass and reached over for the parchment. He picked it up and started reading, his eyes skimming through as Quinn just watched silently with that same intense stare as he observed Jack’s facial expression. It was an expression of confusion that quickly turned into horror. “What devilry is this?” He looked up at Quinn with a look of terror. “What are you…how…how are you doing this?” The parchment had a title of Clairvoyance at the top and as Jack’s eyes scanned text, the story read as complete walkthrough of his entry into the bar along with all the dialogue he had exchanged with Sam and Quinn. Not only that, but it read his thoughts. Jack set the paper down, not wanting to read anymore. This was also just after he had read the sentence ‘Jack set the paper down, not wanting to read anymore.’ Jack looked to Quinn with disbelief. “What’s going on?”
“I told you Jack this is your story,” Quinn said in a gentle voice. “I’m sorry to say, but this is also the end of it.” Jack gave a look of questioning to which Quinn replied. “You’re going to die Jack. I poisoned your drink when you turned away.”
Jack thought back to the crash of dishes and Sam’s temper. All he could utter was faint “Why?”
Quinn put up a face of sternness. “I admit I regret it, but you failed Jack. This town had so much potential, what with the location and the mines brimming with gold. Our boss gladly handed you the position of sheriff, he had high hopes. We thought you were going to clean up this town. Look where it is now….look where you are now. We already tried asking you politely to step down, but you didn’t. You stood stubbornly and said, ‘I’m sheriff and that’s the way it’s going to remain.’ You defied us, so now we have to take action. Just remember, you forced this upon yourself.” Quinn stood up and started putting on his jacket. “I had high hopes for you myself, but a man without gumption or spirit isn’t a man at all. You’ve wasted a good portion of your life at this bar, maybe this will end up easing your pain. Goodbye Jack.” Quinn turned and walked out, leaving Jack slumped over the counter, eyes still wet from tears, dead, cold, and unmoving.
Quinn entered the fresh night air and breathed in exasperation. He then proceeded down the center of the road and was soon joined by another man coming up from behind. The man was tall, thin, with a fairly handsome face, and wore a black suit. He gave Quinn a look of annoyance and held out the parchment from earlier. “Did I read right….face of a pig? Last time I looked in the mirror I recall seeing nothing other than a face of perfection.”
Quinn didn’t bother looking at him. “Hello to you too Michael. As for that….” He pointed at the parchment. “I gave you a face to match your personality.”

Michael watched him with a hint of amusement. “Boy was the government sure lucky to nab you. I was pretty amazed at how you predicted the whole outcome back there before the man even walked in. Impressive. Of course you’re nowhere near my level but still…..good job.”
“I don’t need your admiration.”
Michael just shrugged. They continued to walk in silence for a few minutes before Michael turned back to Quinn with a curious look. “Do you feel sorry for him?”
Quinn gazed at the ground as he spoke. “Yes.”
“Don’t feel too bad. You said it yourself; the guy was a broken mess. Every time I tried to talk with the guy, he absolutely refused to resign. I wonder why he wanted to continue being sheriff if he didn’t have the guts to back it up,” Michael pondered.
Quinn looked solemn. “Over the years, I’ve noticed that people tend to always fight for what they believe is right. However…” Quinn struggled for the words, “sometimes people just don’t have enough will to carry it out.”
Unexpectedly, a crow came soaring swiftly towards them and released a note, which Quinn’s partner caught, before rising off again into the starry sea above. Michael read the note and pocketed it before turning to back to Quinn. “Come on, wipe that tear from your eye, we got another job from the boss.”