My editor and i polished off sake and bottles of wine last night. It was like being on drugs when we watched the blizzard in the cold yellow parking lot light fly a million directions into the night, like sparks of snow with poisonous trails whipping behind them. Inside the cozy abode, we downloaded a lot of music, broke my dollar store wine opener and had to venture out into the snow again to get a new one, smoked a pack between us, and marveled at an old Valentine he made for me now stuck on the fridge.
Now, if only he can secure accreditation for Sasquatch, we will still get to spend more summer together.
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