he’s twenty-seven.
he sits in his apartment, a movie on the dish.
he pours himself another drink. he likes to get just the right amount of wasted before calling it a night.
it takes careful calculation. with the hard stuff, you really have to pace yourself. it’s not about the number, it’s about the speed, and he’s got a nice momentum going. he has at least an hour more fun.
and if all else fails, he has a safety net. work is better with a hangover.
he treated himself tonight. happy birthday. picked up a nice bottle. he can’t really afford it but what the hell, it’s once a year.
he’s glad to be alone.
he could have told the folks at his store, but the recognition is embarrassing. and they are not really his friends. his family lives many states away. he has a few unopened cards on the counter. there’s never any money in them, so what’s the point.
in the movie, two men are running across a bleached hillside. no one seems to be chasing them. he’s pretty sure he’s seen this one before. he’s pretty sure he couldn’t make sense of it that time either. pretty much a movie about running on hills. it’s got the guy from jaws. and the guy from clockwork orange. running.
he takes another small sip. he shakes his head and takes a close look at his glass. it’s actually worth the money.
the logician in him says it’s time to put the nice bottle away and break out something cheaper. his taste buds are probably fried anyway.
but it’s his birthday.
he looks closely at the bottle.
“twelve years old.”
he considers that fact. he rolls the thought around his head.
“that’s a long time to wait for a drink.”