Addicted
Manny appeared at my shoulder, already slightly disheveled from his own turn.
"That," I said, catching my breath, "was the best thing I have done in weeks."
He grinned. "I told you."
We stayed longer than we had planned, taking turns, laughing at each other, drinking steadily, and letting the night do what good nights are supposed to do which is make the weight of everything else feel briefly manageable.
By the time Manny drove us back to the house, the world had taken on the soft, slightly tilted quality that comes from one drink too many, and I was hiccuping quietly into my hand and finding it funnier than it deserved.
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