For thirty years, Henning has stood behind the bar of The Goat, a smoky bodega in the corner of Copenhagen the city is leaving behind. He has the beer poured before a man reaches his stool. He knows what each of them drinks, and he never asks where any of them came from. They don't ask him either.
Now the building is sold. The Goat closes at the end of the month, and one by one the regulars mark the end in the only small ways they have.
On the last night, a young man comes in out of the cold. He is thirty years old. He orders a beer, takes in the room, and says his mother told him about this place.
Henning has spent his whole life not looking at the one thing he did. Tonight it sits down at his bar.
