'when we're young, we all want to be heroes.' he says, pushing the cigarette smoke from the side of his mouth. the hazy, dim lights of the bar outline him, causing him to glow like he's the messiah. his eyes drift down to the half full whiskey glass sitting mockingly in front of him. 'but what happens when we get older and the only thing we begin to see in the mirror are the villians?'
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