Some people drink because of biology, others because of boredom. Some drink to forget. The ones for whom the tracks of the past need covering, who don't want to think about the mistakes, how they got here. Some drink beer, few others wine. Beer is for denial, wine for aspiration to class, transparent.

Those who no longer deal with the need on a conscious level drink hard alcohol. They let warmth slide over them and they're not cheap frat girls with Long Island ice teas. They converse quietly, sadly. They numb themselves to their history and the history spills out. Rarely. Mostly, they remain fixtures, making jokes with aching in their eyes. They pass in and out like the smoke.

Scotch and soda. Whiskey, rocks. Vodka. Gin. At 2am they go back, eyes closed the whole way, alone in a neon sea.

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