The Drinker
written by: Jennifer Geer
His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he took the icy glass from the freezer. Sweat began to form under his arm. His eyes were bloodshot and bleary. The man’s breathing was fast and irregular.
The glass was chilled perfectly. The man pushed it under the crushed ice slot and counted one, two, and three, then abruptly stopped. He reached for the frozen bottle of absolute and precisely measured 3 fingers full. He added two green Olives on a wooden toothpick.
Clear wet droplets were sensually sliding down the glass. He picked it up and tilted it to his dry cracked lips. He closed his bloodshot eyes. He took a sip; he held the liquid courage long in his mouth and thought to himself “I’ll just have the one tonight.”
I'm a 70-year-old woman who grew up without a high school education, a single mother at 18 but thrived in the school of street smarts. I am the oldest of ten children and have had a magical life, a wonderful career, three marriages, and a lovely beautiful smart successful daughter. I have been writing ever since I could hold a crayon.
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