Excerpt from something in progress, which I expect to have finished in the next day or so, as it isn't large.
My father comes into Abuelita's apartment right as dinner is done, with a small blue glass bottle of some sort of flavored sherry that makes me really wish I hadn't self-imposed another 90 days of sobriety on myself last week. I have to explain as much to him when he offers me some, and he sort of looks at me sideways as if I had just told him I was a purple unicorn. But he doesn't push the issue.
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