Max Griffin

George clenched his coat and leaned into the bitter winds that blustered down Michigan Avenue. Snowflakes sparkled in the streetlights and prickled against his cheeks. He thought about catching a cab, but the fifty dollar fare to get to the north suburbs stopped him. After all, the Red Line subway station awaited only three blocks away. His cell phone buzzed. He rolled his eyes when he recognized Martin's number on the screen. Shit. He probably just wants to bitch me out again about working

A winter's night, a piano bar, and a troubled relationship...