They had nothing to say to each other. It was almost as if they didn’t see each other. Maybe they never had. Maybe they were realizing this, that in facing off they had been barking at funhouse mirrors, chasing their own mangy tails, scratching at an insatiable itch. They were exhausted, so they stopped.
They sat and drank and saw themselves across the table. They didn’t like what they saw. Illusions drowning in emptiness. The bottle on the table was an hourglass in reverse. The silence called all bluffs, cancelled all debts, until they were left nothing but what they came in with. They ordered another bottle.