I only had a few drinks.
I know that’s usually the start of a tale of woe, or what someone
begins with as they plead with a loved one to take them back despite their
misdeeds. But for me, it was pretty much the whole story. At least that part of
it.
Because after those few drinks came the meeting of a friend,
and their friends, then came the hook-up, and after that the trip back to hers,
the attempt to open her window, the shove, the opening, the fall.
They were the first, and only, drinks of my life.
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