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Weekly Contest #365
My childhood was spent in competition with the bottles my mom loved so much more than me; I insulted seltzers, tried to blow chipped wine glasses up with my mind, and death glared bottles of tequila. Yet none of these alcohols ever made my blood boil as much as the handle of vodka my mom kept above the fridge. If she wasn’t at the bar, she’d wind down with a drink every night before bed. Whether that be a gin & tonic or a glass of whiskey—her leisure sips would eventually lead to gulps and glazed eyes before she’d stumble to bed. This became...
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