I was working behind the bar when Tyler walked in. He was a lad of no older than 19, 6'1, skinhead, slim and sporting a white cap, trackies and footba...l top. To me he was just one of the regulars, scrounging, filthy, vile and a terrible flirt.Tyler: Alright luv fosters.I poured it up as I saw his two friends walk over to the table by the jukebox and drink their pints they had just bought.Tyler: Aint seen you in here before...whats ya name.I spoke to him briefly and short but I could sense he. I think you know the rest.”“So... they were... Okay, but why not just use a gun? Why a machete?”“It was actually my wife’s machete. She got it from her mom, you know. Family heirloom. Figured she would like that if…” He breathed deep before sinking onto the bed, the picture in hand. “I know that isn’t what she would’ve wanted from me. But, I couldn’t just let it lie. No one is going to remember her name. Or why she died. To the rest of the people, she didn’t matter. But, she mattered to. More

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