"Cheers. Our restaurant. 8 o'clock. Xmas eve." The snow had completely cleared by now. It was Christmas break at her college. He knew that. He knew sh... was finished and was on break. She knew he was still here in town, and he knew he wanted to see her. Badly. "So, the fool decided that Christmas is a good time to break up. You know? Oh, hell. I should have seen it coming. I'm an idiot. I was someone he locked onto after his last great love. Damn, Jesse. Losers. Losers. I pick losers." They were. . oh, what the hell," Mark said, taking the plastic cup from Mike. He was glad he'd stuck to the punch; apparently the bar mixed them pretty stiff. "What's in this stuff, anyway?" Don't know," Mike admitted. "All Carrie has ever said is that it's based on some sort of German forty-rod that Helga imports from the Black Forest." He laughed, and went on, "There was the year that someone got the bright idea of making the punch out of equal parts of tomato juice and Budweiser, with a little steak. More

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