Tanya’s POV
The afternoon sun casts its waning rays of light through my shop window, declaring it the typical time for Mr. Barlow to waltz into my store in clear dire need of some company. And in my store, he is. Despite his elderly appearance and stumpy stature, one could tell he was quite the looker when he’d been in his prime.
He has a smooth bald head, and broad shoulders, although his age means the loss in some strength, it’s apparent he has once been very muscular. If it is not for his terrible drinking habits, maybe he’d still look the same, and smell less of age-old whiskey which tends to put people off. If not for that, Mr. Barlow would’ve had more people to talk to other than just me.
