The Coward’s Price For Sobriety
Six months. 31.5 times six. 93 days? I’m not particularly mathematically adept at this time. Nevertheless and irregardless– off the wagon. First, it was the party for a friend of my lover. Strong through an hour, maybe two. Then anxious. Then was asked to get a drink for her. Hers were weak. I nod and smile. To the bar. Drop a twenty. “Double vodka.” It was downhill from there. Down into “Proud Mary in the...
