5.

He scribbles on a napkin:
There's not doom
Or hope
But a relentless working of things
and a rhythm
that has never yet been disproven
He is drunk at a bar
as if he has always been drunk at a bar
It is dimly lit
as if the world were never bright
His stomach was once soft
now hard
someday soft again
He can't ignore this.

She is glorious. More
every year
Someday
less so.
Outside,
it's cold and dark.
He dreams of her, forgets her again,
likes to dream of her when things are difficult.

He gets up from the bar.
Time begins again.