The stories of Bryan Young

            "You," he called out to me from across the bar.             I tried my hardest to just shut him out and take another drink.  I couldn't tell who was shabbier between the pair of us.  Neither of us had shaved in a few days or more, we both poured sweat from the unmitigated heat, and I couldn't tell if it was him or me I could smell over the sweating glass of iced whiskey.             The stranger took his hat off and wiped his brow with his sleeve before beginning again.  "Are you the one they call the Whiskey Doctor?"             "Whiskey Doctor?  Who says that?"             "Everyone."             "Do they?"    ...