Under the grey haze of Birmingham, a man walks into the bar and takes a seat at the far end of the counter, under the dim golden lights. He’s not there to get drunk he just needs a few minutes to forget what he’s done.
The bartender places in front of him a glass of aged rum, bold coffee and burnt molasses. They call it The Gentleman’s Sin when guilt turns elegant, and the darkness smells of rum, coffee and molasses on a sleepless Birmingham night.