After the Last Train

The plate is empty, the beer is half. The cigarette is doing the work the night still wants done. He is not waiting for anyone, which is the small dignity of any 1 a.m. counter.

Behind him, two heads, a kettle, a wall of paper menus we cannot read. The wall doesn't matter. The wall is just the room agreeing to be quiet.

B&W on purpose. Color would have explained too much.