He remembered the bottom of the boat, filthy from the dirt on their shoes. He remembered the fish’s blood on the deck, leaked out from when Neil removed the hook from its jaw.
He tilted his shot glass in the picture’s direction.
“Cheers, mate. One hell of a fish.”
The picture stared back, always smiling.
Terry was no longer sure he knew how to smile.
The world was ending and there was blood on the floor of Neil’s Pub.