Life

I’ll never forget the first time I met him. He stood in the kitchen doorway of my grandfather’s house, slightly inhibited by the insecurity of youth. His tall lanky body leaned cockeyed on the door-frame. Though his golden brown hair …

He looked over his shoulder, pulled a cheap bottle of vodka out of his pocket, took a swig and carefully put it back. There I was, the picture of a squeaky clean and perfect life. Me with my little bob …