Old Oak Tavern.
Standing behind the bar, Charles Vester looked helplessly at Provo, raising his hand to stop other fans, staring back at Provo's helpless face.
Vester knew that Provo's asthma had relapsed last week. He couldn't continue working at the refinery temporarily, otherwise, he might lose his life there, and next week's rent was looming; last night, Provo had nearly died on the streets, and the winter in Kansas seemed exceptionally long.
It wasn't that Provo wasn't trying, but…in the grandeur of the era, their struggles seemed unable to change anything—
Didn't Provo want the Kansas City Chiefs to win in the playoffs?
Of course not.
