Tidy up, polish, serve; work Henri's was always the same but he didn't complain since he loved it. His pub was his second home and although his wife complained about his late hours, he continued to work. Things had gotten more difficult now that he was working alone, now that the only apprentice he had had was gone. But even though he had been worried not to see him arrive at work several in a row, now he couldn't stop wondering how he was doing. A call from him in May, nothing more. No news. Where exactly was he on that exact day, what was he doing, who was he with? So many questions tormented him. Sometimes, after the pub closed, Henri would remember the night Day had walked through his pub door, drenched to the bone and starving.
"What are you thinking about?"
Henri turned to his wife, who had come to help him with the new shipment of bottles of alcohol. Usually, it was Day who took care of the boxes.
