Meeting Phitz

This is a snippet from Family Matters–readers of Talk Of The Town will know who Phitz is–he’s meeting Gil, his birth dad, and he has a moment of self-realization–

Phitz made his way past scarred wooden tables with the ghosts of overlapping rings from coffee mugs and cups. No saucers in a place like this; too artsy fartsy. Ashtrays overflowing with yellow-tipped butts dotted each one, and Phitz snorted a little to himself, thinking that the poor overworked woman behind the counter just gave up after a while and said “fuck it” whenever she looked at them. He caught a glimpse of himself in the hazy mirror behind the bar and turned away. He didn’t like looking at himself in the mirror; a geeky slender guy reaching toward thirty, with soft brown eyes and carroty red hair spiked with too much gel, and a pale, clean shaven face full of angles. An ex-girlfriend had once told him that he reminded her of a priest, and at that thought, he looked down at his t-shirt, still tie-dyed with yesterday’s lunch and half hidden under the camo jacket with “Fitzhugh” stitched on the patch above the pocket. No Roman collar here, sorry.



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