12 Hours

Its 6 pm. You walk in the door and realize in a short twelve hours you’ll be going back.

You open the fridge and grab a cold Fat Tire. You’ve gotten fussier with your beers as you’ve gotten older. It has to be decent beer these days. Your beer usually needs a bottle opener, no more screw or pop tops for you.

The first one barely hits the sides. It’s been a day. Most of them are, aren’t they? It’s a job few people…



Self discovery in progress, stay tuned

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