The sun was setting behind the Chicago skyline as Chicago police officer Sean Roman made his way to the doors of the 21st precinct. After bidding farewell to Sergeant Platt, of course. The March air was still brisk, but the snow had melted away and there was that revitalizing scent of spring in the air.

Sean hopped in his old Chevy Silverado and closed his eyes. Another day was done. He could go home. And for that, he silently sent a prayer of thanks to the Man upstairs. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't remember that his life was on the line at every second.

Sean cranked the engine and headed towards his apartment on south Damon avenue. As he got closer, there was something pulling him away. The apartment was no first-class penthouse, but that wasn't the reason he was avoiding it.

He knew the drill - walk up the stairs to the third floor, unlock the door, drop his stuff and change from his uniform to sweats and a tshirt. Then, he'd grab a beer from the fridge and spend the night absentmindedly watching some hockey or football game. He'd fall asleep and get up the next morning and do it all again. Just going through the motions.

"What's so bad about that?", he asked himself. He knew a lot of guys who were a heck of a lot worse off than he was.

But the house would be dark. And silent. And there would be no one there for him to wrap his arms around and tell how glad he was to be home. No one to cuddle up on the couch with and talk about the day. He would be alone.

Lost in his thoughts, Sean found himself up on south Pulaski. It wasn't too late, about 8:30. He looked out the window and a neon sign flickered in his eyes. He couldn't see a lot of people inside, and the streets were nearly empty. Something about it just seemed right.

He parked his pickup along the street and dug in his pocket and pulled out change for the parking meter. He opened the door and looked around. It was a nice place - the dark wood floors were polished and the tables were clean. The bar was empty, and besides a few older couples sitting in booths towards the back, the place was vacant.

The legs of the barstool scraped across the floor as he pulled it out to take a seat. The bartender, whom Sean hadn't seen before, looked up. He looked like he'd been asleep. He walked over to Sean and asked him what he wanted. The man handed him an ice cold beer, and looked Sean right in the eyes. The man was old, and he looked like he hadn't slept in ages. Literally. There was just something about him.

"What can I get you?", The man asked, his deep voice husky with age and cigar smoke.

"Whatever it takes", Sean replied. Something to ease the pain.

Sean expected him to turn to the impressive collection of liquor, or the row of beer on tap. The man just looked up slowly until he was looking Sean in the eyes. The man's crystal blue eyes took Sean by surprise.

"Boy, I may not know much, but I do know you ain't findin' that here." He said quietly.

Sean looked up and their equally blue eyes met again.

"Watcha got on your mind, son? I got nothin' but time and I always like a good talk".

Sean didn't know what to say.

"I don't know…ya ever felt like you were just destined to end up alone? I just can't take another night by myself in that apartment..." The words tumbled out of his mouth, and in that moment he realized how desperate he was for someone to talk to.

"Yes, son, I know the feeling well. My wife, Meredith, yeah she and I's married for 19 years. Best thing I could have ever asked for. But she died in a car accident 5 years ago. Heading down I-19 to visit our son at East Tennessee for the weekend. I didn't even get to say goodbye." Sean was taken aback.

"Oh...I,I...I'm sorry….I had no idea…" Sean stammered.

"Don't be sorry. It was her time. The Good Lord called her home. 'Course I didn't think that at the time. I was angry...downed bottle after bottle every night. A couple glasses of Jack D almost did me in one night. Neighbor called the cops when she heard me hit the ground...we lived in an apartment...and I almost died of alcohol poisoning. I got clean after that, decided this was no way Meredith would want me to live my life….even if she couldn't live it with me." Sean was speechless.

"Wow, sir. That's incredible…"

"I guess what I'm tryin' to tell ya son, is that in life….you find love, you lose love, and you realize that all along you've been loved. There's people out there who care about ya, I got no doubt. I got my son and daughter, and real good friends. I'm sure you can say the same. So just be patient, live your life and become the best man you can, and eventually the right one will come along. After all, there's someone for everyone, ain't there?''

A small smile began to creep across Sean's face. And his eyes began to well up with tears. This man was right. He'd been too worried about finding love to think about if he was even ready for love. And gettin' drunk on a Tuesday night was no was to do that.

"Now can I get ya anything?" The older man asked.

Sean looked up and blinked away a tear.

"I think I'll just have some water, if ya don't mind." The man smiled and poured a glass.

The men sat and talked as the hours crept by, and Sean was grateful he had stopped in. He learned that the man's name was Kenny, he was from Georgia, and he didn't like living in Chicago. Said he missed the south, and he planned on heading back down there once his daughter graduated from UIC. He promised he would always be close by once her mom had died. But he loved talking to young men; sharing his life's journey and wisdom gained along the way.

Sean felt like a different man when he walked out the door. he knew he could face this world, even if it meant doing it alone.