“It’s been passed down from generation to generation in my family. My great-great grandmother made it through World War II with it!”

“And now you’re brother’s giving it to his fiancée.”

“Who is the fucking worst.”

“And you’re sure it’s not a fake?”


Lips curled into a smile as bourbon was raised to them. “It will be soon.”

The two sat beneath a single light in a lonely booth in a lonely bar and planned the liberation of an heirloom.

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